GIFT   OF 


JZ^^^ 


THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN 


-s==»5>^^«B=>i«- 


The  Caverns 
OF  Dawn 


BY 

JAMES   PAXTON   VOORHEES 

Author  of  "Wissy,"  "The  Tale  of  Wealth," 
Other  Stories,  and  Poems 


O  dear,  fondest  heart!  Of  the  days  that  are  past, 
And  clin^  in  their  tenderness  close  round  the  soul, 
May  we  dream  on  as  now,  until,  at  the  last, 
When  joys,  out  of  dreams,  in  their  splendors  unroll, 
We  see,  in  our  loved  ones,  the  hope  that  we  cast. 
With  deep,  lon^imt  sight,  at  their  flight  to  love's  goal. 


PLAINPIELD.    INDIANA 

THB  RAiDABAUaH-VOORHBE3  COMPANY 

1910 


Copyright,  1906.  1907 
By  James  PAXTON  VOORHEES 

All  Bights  Eeserved 


Copyright.  1910 
Br  JAMES  PAXTON  VaORHEES 

All  Biyhts  Beserved 


The  Caller  Press 

Plainfield,  Indiana 


To  his  son 

CHARLES  FRANCIS  VOORHEES 

A  tried,  true  and  faithful  soul 

this  story  is  affectionately  inscribed 

by   his  father 

the  author 


259585 


CONTENTS 


Chapter 


I. 

II. 


III. 

IV. 

V. 

VI. 

VII. 

VIII. 


IX. 

X. 

XI. 

XII. 
XIII. 
XIV. 

XV. 

XVI. 

XVII. 

XVIII. 

XIX. 


Page 

In  Explanation 9 

Night  and  Morning 13 

A    Glimpse   of   Law   and    Govern- 
ment;    Together    With     Some 
Things    Unpleasantly    Due    to 
the  Absence  op  Both     ...       23 
"The  Rats  Leave  the  Ship"     .     ,       33 
"The  Other  Woman  in  the  Case"      38 
Brad  Simons  and  De  Br.u)dock     .       45 
The   Country   Schoolhouse      .      .       51 
"The  Way  of  the  World"     .      .       63 
"Good    Things    of    Day    Begin    to 

Droop  and  Drowse, 
And    Night's    Black    Agents    to 

Their  Prey  do  Rouse"     ...       70 

The  Braddock  Farm ,81 

John 93 

Where  Thieves  Fell  Out  and  Tom 

BoLERS  Came  In 98 

A  Seasonable  Conspiracy     .      .  106 

An  Aggravated  and  Deadly  Threat  111 
A  Political  Visitation  ;  and  a  Bank 

Robbery 118 

Shadows  Cross  the  Sun  .  .  .  133 
Uncle  Peter  Braddock  ....  146 
Zeke  Smithin  Meets  a  Violent  End  167 
A   Lynching   Syndicate   Short   on 

Dividends 178 

Brad  Simons  Ignominiously  Comes 
TO  Grief,  Where  Some  ]\Iight 
Think  He  Belongs     ....     189 

VI. 


CONTENTS.  VII 

Chapter  Page 

XX.    The  Haunted  Wood 202 

XXI.    The   Picnic. — John   Braddock   Un- 
der Suspicion 215 

XXII.    Smoky    Billings. — The    Arrest    of 

John  Braddock 226 

XXIII,  An  Unexplained  Visitor  from  Ken- 

tucky Fills  the  Atmosphere 
With  Deepest  ]\Iystery     .     .     .     236 

XXIV.  William    White    "Gets    Into   the 

Game"  and,  at  the  Same  Time, 
Near  Enough  Into  a  Fight 
WITH  Brad  Simons  to  Make  it 

Interesting 251 

XXV.    Bob    Likkum    ]\Iakes    an    Appoint- 
ment   Under    Rather    Curious 
and  Unexpected  Circumstances     258 
XXVI.    Smoky  Billings  Dreams  a  Dream     .     266 
XXVII.    Billings    and     Simons     (Limited), 
Furnishers  of  Interesting  and 

Exciting  News 274 

XXVIII.    De  and  William. — "Do  You  Love 

Me?"  "I  Do."  "Then  Why— ?"     285 
XXIX.    Esau    ]\Iakes    a    Discovery    of    In- 
creasing     Mystery      and      Be- 
wilderment      291 

XXX.    A  Compact 297 

XXXI.    William  White  Faces  His  Enemies    308 
XXXII.    The  Old  ]\Iill 318 

XXXIII.  ]\Iona  Walker,  the  Pretty  House- 

keeper, Brings  Brad  Simons  to 

AN  Understanding     ....     333 

XXXIV.  A     Treacherous     and     Murderous 

Assault 339 


VIII 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter 
XXXV. 


Page 


A  Subtle  Skein  in  the  Warp  and 
Woof    That    Fate    Will    Ever 


XXXVI. 

XXXVII. 
XXXVIII. 


XXXIX. 


XL. 

XLI. 

XLII. 

XLIII. 

XLIV. 

XLV. 

XLVI. 

XLVII. 

XLVIII. 
XLIX. 


Weave — Is  Ever  Weaving.  A 
Doubt.  Nance  and  De.  John 
Braddock's     Sister     Yields     to 

Brad  Simons 348 

The  Kentucky  Man  Takes  a  New 

Lease  on  Life 356 

De  Has  Friends  at  Work     .     .     .     369 

One  of  ''Them  Literary  Fellers" 

Threatens  to  Achieve  Renown. 

— A  Rescue  is  Effected   From 

THE    Raging    Waters    of    the 

Flood 383 

The  Thrilling  and  Sensational 
Religious  Scruples  op  De  Brad- 
dock    394 

Trial  of  John  Braddock     .      .      .     401 

Acquittal 422 

Lost 432 

A  Ghostly  Guide 453 

The  Caverns  of  Dawn     ....     459 
"The  Wrath  TO  Come"     ....     474 
Bob    Likkum's    Theatrical    "An- 
gel"      485 

Smoky  Billings  Objects — Objec- 
tion Not  Overruled     ....     489 

The  Harvest  Moon 494 

Goodby 509 


In  Explanation.     ■  '  '    ••;''.; 

"With  a  deep  and  charitable  consciousness  of  our  com- 
mon failings,  and  in  the  blessed  and  natural  certainty 
and  conviction  of  our  final  release  and  salvation,  my 
duty  is  undertaken. 

Not  a  great  while  since,  an  eminent  public  speaker 
(Mr.  Taft),  talking  to  a  large  assembly  at  Cooper  Union, 
New  York,  was  interrupted  by  a  question  from  someone 
in  the  audience. 

"How,"  shouted  a  voice — its  owner  evidently  stirred 
by  deep  and  vital  interest, — "how  about  the  unem- 
ployed?" 

Mr.  Taft  cried: 

"God  knows!" 

A  newly  risen  i\Ioses,  in  the  Northwest — his  name  is 
Johnson — j\Ir.  Johnson,  not  long  ago,  was  asked  by  a 
well  known  writer — ]\Ir.  Steffens — what  was  the  trouble 
with  our  social  system.  Mr.  Johnson  is  quoted  as  reply- 
ing: 

"No  one,  in  the  w^hole  world,  knows." 

Taken  in  connection  with  previous  experience  in  the 
case  of  William  Jennings  Bryan,  another  quotation  from 
the  magazine  writer  has,  in  an  even  increased  sense,  led 
us  to  suppose  that  ]\Ir.  Bryan  in  effect  holds : 

"If  one  thing  won't  do,  try  another," — which  is  all 
very  well  as  far  as  it  goes;  but  it  don't  go  far  enough. 

In  my  own  opinion — and,  I  dare  say,  it  is  as  good  as 
anyone's — in  my  own  opinion,  it  is  useless  and  unneces- 
sary to  longer  continue  skipping  around  in  this  cloud- 
land  and  fog,  playing  at  political  and  social  hide  and 
seek,  when  there  is  a  way  out. 

Does  "no  one,  in  the  whole  world,  know,"  what  the 
trouble  is  with  our  system  of  living?  is  the  question.  / 
say,  there  is  someone — and  there  are  many  who  know, 


- 1-0:  - .  •    -^      '      IN  EXPLANATION. 

and  many  more  who,  if  they  do  not,  may  easily,  readily 
learn. 

The  facts  are  plain  and  simple,  and  may  be  read  and 
comprehended  not  only  by  those  running,  but  by  those 
standing  still  or  sitting  do^vTi,  as  well. 

The  trouble  is,  simply,  insincerity  and  want  of  per- 
sonal good  faith;  together  with  the  continued  and  un- 
bearable existence  of  personal  and  selfish  indilierence — 
a  clear  personal  problem,  with  the  solution  plainly  in 
view,  and  each  and  every  single  one  of  us  concerned  in 
and  accountable  for  the  solving  of  that  problem. 

It  has  been  with  a  sense  of  the  gravest — of  the  deep- 
est and  most  solemn  personal — responsibility,  that  I 
have  brought  myself — been  brought  to  write — to  prepare 
this  narrative. 

It  may  not  seem  a  pleasant  view  that  we  are  obliged 
to  take;  nevertheless,  it  is  an  unavoidable  one,  and,  in 
spite  of  the  best,  the  kindest,  the  most  humane  and  char- 
itable disposition,  will  have  to  be  given  in  plain,  unvar- 
nished terms — terms,  however,  intended  to  convey  facts 
and  conditions  and  release;  not  a  measure  of  censure  or 
of  punishment  and  of  further  suffering  and  distress.  We 
will  surely  exercise  forbearance  and  mercy  in  dealing 
justly  with  our  mutual  faults  and  shortcomings. 

Selfishness,  destructive  pride,  faithlessness  and  bru- 
tality largely  go  to  make  up  our  social  life. 

It  will  not  be  possible  to  fully  and  satisfactorily  ex- 
press the  meaning — the  inevitable  meaning  of  the  story 
of  The  Caverns  of  Daw^n,  without  an  additional  word 
to  fix  our  thought  upon  the  Individual,  in  society  or  out 
of  it;  and  upon  the  realization  of  the  responsibility  of 
that  Individual  to  its  own  as  well  as  to  another's  wel- 
fare. 

Once  understand  that  We  ourselves  are  the  makers  of 
our  o^ATi  troubles  and  our  joys;  that,  in  the  beginning, 


IN  EXPLANATION.  11 

as  a  race  or  evidence  of  life,  we  exist  by  our  own  sep- 
arate, independent  powers,  alone;  and  not  by  politics, 
government  or  social  conditions  of  any  kind  other  than 
those  contained  in  common  safety  and  decency — in  the 
fair  attributes  of  personal  character — once  learn  all  this 
(and  we  will,  of  course,  before  we  get  through),  and  the 
problems  of  the  day,  and  of  the  hour,  and  of  the  minute 
are  easily  solved — personality,  as  personality  alone  can, 
supplying  the  solution. 

Confucius, — a  wise  old  Chinaman! — ages  ago  said 
something,  in  substance,  very  similar: 

"Four  fifths  of  life  consist  in  personal  conduct;  the 
remaining  fifth  may  be  given  to  the  other  affairs  of 
existence. ' ' 

To-day,  I  say,  it's  all  personal — five  fifths  personal; 
faith,  no  matter  what  kind,  or  whether  good  or  bad; 
benevolence;  charity;  pride;  humility;  love;  virtue; 
evil,  itself;  business — all  the  common  elements  of  life 
unfailingly  refer  back  to  personalism. 

Is  it,  therefore,  not  true  that  these  things  of  a  fur- 
ther personal  obligation  and  nature  should  be  realized — 
must  be — is  it  not  true? 

If  realized,  can  there  be  any  doubt  of  our  having 
found  a  remedy,  relief  for  our  otherwise  seemingly  in- 
supportable and  grievous  personal  ills  and  burdens? 
Assuredly,  there  can  be  none;  and  I  leave  the  ensuing 
story,  with  its  best  aim  and  purpose,  to  show  how  un- 
selfishness and  fair  play  may  bring  a  cure. 

The  human  race,  with  its  natural  failings,  has  yet 
experienced  a  great  and  imposing  past;  and  one  in 
which,  doubtless,  it  has  acted  for  the  best,  according  to 
its  lights.  However,  in  the  even  happier  intelligence  of 
the  present,  drawTi  from  the  perception  of  a  truer  rela- 
tion to  ourselves,  to  each  other,  to  society  and  to  human- 
ity, may  we  not  expect  to  joyously  withdraw,  as  they 


12  IN  EXPLANATION. 

willingly  flee  before  us,  from  the  unhappier  shadows  of 
gloom  and  despair,  and  into  the  brighter  and  gladder 
sunlight  of  perfect  hope,  love  and  universal  happiness 
here  and  hereafter ! 

With  the  foregoing  view,  my  work  is  done, 

J.  P.  V. 
Greencastle,  Indiana, 

July  20,  1908. 


The  Caverns  of  Dawn. 


CHAPTER  I. 


NIGHT  AND  MORNING. 


It  was  night. 

He  stood  alone  upon  the  bridge.  Beyond,  the  lights 
of  the  city  spread  out  in  fantastic  fire.  The  heavens 
glowed  with  the  stars  eternal,  unchanging.  Solitude,  fit 
companion  for  memory,  surrounded  him.  The  phantoms 
of  the  past — of  failure  and  of  retribution — moved,  in 
dancing,  shadowy  images,  before  his  vision.  He  saw 
cities  where  thousands  toiled;  vast  halls  and  throngs 
assembled.  He  saw  himself  a  helpless  speck,  an  atom, 
in  this  whirling  mass  of  energy  and  selfish  triumph — 
himself  in  hopeless  struggle  for  a  right.  In  the  crowds 
he  saw  those  ever  seeming  to  befriend  him — ever  to 
oppose  his  wrongs ;  but  ever  silently  and  unseen  faith- 
lessly and  treacherously  plotting  in  his  overthrow.  In 
the  name  of  eternal  justice  and  truth !  what  did  it  all 
mean?  He  was  crushed — beaten.  Was  he  going  mad? 
He  had  not  even  the  poor  comfort  of  failing  reason 
where  he  might  blindly  grope  his  darkened  way  into  a 
merciful  oblivion.  Old  forms  and  institutions  were  tot- 
tering, falling,  crumbling  into  pitiful  but  kindly  decay 
and  vanishing  in  a  sheltering  past.  Why  could  he  not 
find  release  and  hide,  forever  hide,  the  wreck  of  his  own 
tragic  sail  in  a  haven  of  forgotten  things — of  forgetful- 
ness?  Gleams  of  fitful  and  disordered  intelligence  lit 
the  gloom ;  spent  their  little  life  like  broken  sword  blades 
stained  blood  red  or  bits  of  jangled  lightning  coming 
to  abrupt  and  sudden  stops,  and  left  unsatisfied  results 

13 


14  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

as  ashes  tasteless  in  the  mouth.  Where  should  he  turn 
from  that  haunting  procession  of  ghostly  shapes !  The 
river,  reflecting  the  glimmering  stars,  flowed  silently  at 
his  feet.  He  gazed  long  into  its  depths,  but  the  phan- 
toms were  there.  He  faced  Arlington  and  the  broad 
open  country  across  the  river,  where  a  nation's  dead  lay 
buried — shadowy  shapes,  here,  were  crowding  tliick — 
thick  and  fast.  He  turned  slowly  to  the  city — and  the 
phantoms  still  pursued  him.  Was  there  no  rest  ?  There 
was  none. 

Morning. 

The  city  gleamed  and  sparkled  in  the  rising  sun  like 
a  great  jewel  flashing  over  a  new  world  divine  radiance 
— the  heart  of  a  vast  nation  where  have  been  humanity's 
hopes  and  longings  for  a  hundred  years  and  more. 
Signalizing  promise,  it  told  of  the  lofty  purposes  of  a 
mighty  republic.  It  was  not  concerned  with  phantom 
shapes.  Why  should  it  be?  Wrong  could  not  dwell 
here.  Failure  and  retribution!  Impossible — idle.  Are 
not  such  visions,  then,  the  mere  product  of  a  dreamer's 
mind?  Away  with  these  phantoms!  They  are  false. 
Waste  not  your  time  upon  them.  Away,  away  with  evil 
phantoms ! 

The  scene  was  a  familiar  one,  in  a  park,  beneath  the 
trees.  There,  lingered  the  man  who  had  stood  beside 
the  river.  He  lounged  silently,  restlessly  and  uneasily 
beside  the  colossal  equestrian  statue  of  a  dead  president. 
A  living  one  presided  across  the  way.  The  blackbirds 
were  looking  for  their  breakfast;  so  was  the  man — who, 
the  night  before,  had  watched  the  waters  as  they  flowed 
beneath  the  bridge — the  old,  old  bridge  of  sighs ! 

As  he  loitered  near  the  statue,  a  middle-aged  woman 
and  an  attractive,  fair  young  girl  still  in  her  teens  ap- 
proached. The  man,  evidently  acquainted  with,  the  new 
arrivals,  nodded  and  the  girl  and  woman  paused. 


NIGHT  AND  MORNING.  15 

"Have  you  got  a  place  yet?"  he  asked. 

"No,  Mr.  Jump,"  returned  the  elder  of  the  two  fe- 
males.    "Mr.  Blazes " 

"You  think  he'll  get  a  position  for  you?"  drearily 
queried  the  first  speaker,  interrupting  the  other. 

"Mr.  Blazes?  He  says  he'll  do  something  for  us," 
the  woman  answered,  but  there  was  a  certain  evasiveness 
in  her  manner  and  speech  that  caught  the  other's  atten- 
tion. 

Her  companion  expressively  stretched  forth  his  arm 
in  the  direction  of  the  effigy  of  the  dead  president. 

"So,"  he  said,  wearily,  "will  that  statue." 

"  I  do  not  know  what  we  will  do,  if  he  does  not, ' '  she 
made  reply. 

"Nor  I,"  said  the  man. 

The  breezes  blew  over  the  people's  beautiful  pleasure 
ground,  the  trees  waved  their  branches  gaily,  the  water 
from  the  handsome  drinking  fountain  trickled  and  mur- 
mured and  sounded  refreshingly  upon  the  ear,  and,  sigh- 
ing, the  woman,  with  the  young  girl,  passed  on ;  like  the 
blackbirds  and  the  lonely  and  helpless  figure  by  that 
monument  to  human  greatness  and  worth  they,  too,  were 
looking  for  their  breakfast. 

The  man  did  not  have  to  wait  long  for  his. 

"Just  a  moment,  please,"  said  he,  and  detained  a 
friend  who  was  hurrying  by  to  his  duties  in  one  of  the 
government  departments.  The  hungry  man  was  eager, 
and  his  passing  friend  was  kind. 

A  word  or  two ;  the  hand  of  the  delayed  department 
official  went  to  his  pocket;  a  coin  was  handed  the  other, 
and  the  two  separated. 

Jason  Jump,  the  recipient  of  the  loan,  was  once 
editor  of  a  flourishing  country  newspaper.  He  was  now 
a  national  claimant.  His  claim,  alas !  however,  appeared 
to  be  upon  charitable  humanity,  and  powerless  to  obtain 


16  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

justice  from  the  laws  of  his  native  land.  He  was  long 
a  noted  figure  in  Washington ;  suffered  much ;  was  event- 
ually known  as  one  of  the  most  daring  and  famous  out- 
laws of  his  times,  and,  in  his  crimes  and  in  their  origin, 
realized  the  sad  and  mournful  dreams — the  inexorable 
results  of  the  ages  of  government  and  misrule, 

"Come  with  me,"  said  a  friendly  voice  at  the  claim- 
ant's elbow,  directed  in  apparent  sympathetic  persua- 
siveness to  the  brooding  sufferer  from  national  and  uni- 
versal ills. 

The  one  addressed  turned  at  this  unexpected  and 
amicable  request,  and  recognized  in  the  man  making  it 
a  familiar  though  hardly  to  be  trusted  acquaintance. 

The  speaker  took  the  object  of  his  address  by  the 
arm,  and  without  waiting  for  a  reply  walked  with  a 
brisk  step  to  a  nearby  rich  and  elegant  drinking  resort. 
The  two  entered.  It  was  early  and  they  were  among  the 
first  there. 

Were  you  ever  in  a  drinking  place  during  the  early 
morning  hours  when  the  atmosphere  is  amber  like  the 
color  of  pale  beer,  and  the  air  has  a  faint,  exhilarating 
odor  of  past  stimulants  and  a  vague  and  undefined 
allurement  in  promise  of  future  ones, — were  you?  If 
not,  you  can  scarcely  know  the  thrill  of  dangerous  hope 
that  seized  upon  the  defeated  and  disappointed  worldly 
soul  of  Jason  Jump  brought  hither  by  the  cunning  of  his 
sleepless  tempter,  Bradford  Simons. 

0  wine — 0  drink;  0  solace  of  broken,  blighted  sor- 
row-stricken lives;  0  condemned  medium  of  forgetful- 
ness,  what  may  be  said  of  you  in  fatal  praise  and  in 
lingering,  fairest  warning! 

As  they  entered  the  place,  they  brushed  past  a  young 
fellow  who,  with  face  flushed  after  a  night  of  gaiety  in 
the  city — and  still  attired  in  evening  dress,  opera  top 
coat  and  hat, — was  preparing  after  a  final  bracer  to  make 


NIGHT  AND  MORNING.  17 

his  way  a  little  unsteadily  home.  The  claimant  and  his 
companion  stepped  aside,  while  the  early  reveler  went 
out  with  a  tuneful  and  sprightly  impromptu: 

"Oh.  for  women  and  wine  and  song. 

And  ihe  night  that  is  given  to  joy, — 
Oh,  for  the  heart  that  is  ever  young. 
And  the  pleasures  that  minstrels  have  ever  sung, 
And  the  bells  that  bridals  have  ever  rung,— 
Oh,  love  for  a  gay  old  boy  ! " 

The  place  was  a  famous  and  notable  one.  Its  luxury, 
the  fashionable  elegance  of  its  well  known,  extensive 
patronage,  and  its  atmosphere  of  ease  and  wealth  ap- 
pealed in  overpowering  waves  to  the  unhappy  govern- 
ment castoff.  Costly  paintings  decorated  the  walls,  cut 
glass  glittered  and  shimmered  with  the  many  colored 
iridescence  of  varied  memory-stilling  contents.  A  white- 
aproned,  white- jacketed  waiter  approached.  The  ser- 
vice, like  the  rest  of  it,  was  immaculate. 

"You've  had  trouble,  Jason,"  said  the  claimant's 
companion,  using  his  friend's  christian  name,  and  ^ith 
a  kind  of  formal  gravity,  as  the  two  seated  themselves 
comfortably  at  a  table.  The  speaker  was  large,  tall  and 
florid;  the  other,  short,  heavy  set  and  dark. 

"Yes,"  gloomily  and  despairingly  replied  the  claim- 
ant, and  the  shadows  of  past  mistakes  and  wrong  came 
stealing  in,  again — once  more,  the  phantoms ! 

"I  wouldn't  stand  it,"  continued  his  friend,  with, 
as  before,  an  air  of  apparent  grave  and  quiet  concern 
for  the  other.  The  speaker,  both  having  drunk,  pushed 
his  glass  to  one  side  on  the  table  and  gazed  at  the 
troubled  subject  of  national  ways  with  a  peculiar  and 
baffling  scrutiny. 

"You  w^ouldn't — wouldn't  you?"  queried  the  other, 
his  tones  sounding  a  note  of  mournful  and  ironical 
pathos  in  that  resort  for  wealth,  idle  pleasure  and  those 
in  power.  • 


18  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"Take  my  advice,  Jump,  and  get  even," — the  com- 
panion of  the  claimant  here  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and, 
with  an  air  of  assumed  carelessness,  coolly  lighted  a 
cigar.    He  bided  his  time;  he  could  wait — and  he  did. 

"That's  all  very  well — ^but  how?"  asked  Jump,  in 
his  turn,  leaning  with  his  arms  on  the  table  and  stretch- 
ing forward  in  an  attitude  of  earnest  questioning  and 
a  too  unmistakable  interest.    A  little  more  urging ! 

"See  here,"  said  his  friend,  while  his  voice  was  low- 
ered darkly,  "if  law  is  no  better  than  such  as  they  make, 
I  'd  make  my  own  law ! ' ' 

"You    mean ?"    exclaimed    the    defeated    man, 

comprehension,  for  the  first  time,  appearing  to  da^\Ti  in 
his  anxious  and  disturbed  eyes. 

"I  mean  what  I  have  always  said,"  returned  the 
other,  deliberately.  "There  is  plenty  of  money  to  be 
made  out  there,  and  it's  only  right  to  take  the  law  in 
your  own  hands.  Leave  your  state  and  government — 
they've  done  nothing  for  you.     Go  back  with  me." 

The  baited  man  made  an  effort  to  control  himself, 
only  partially  succeeding. 

"Damnation,  Brad,  let  me  alone,  will  you!"  he  cried 
desperately.  "I  have  told  you,  never  to  speak  to  me 
of  that  again,"  but  Jump's  manner,  rendered  pliant  by 
drink,  was  not  devoid  of  encouragement  to  the  other, 
and  the  latter  apologetically  and  adroitly  replied: 

"No  offense.    The  cattle  trade  is  a  good  trade." 

"Cattle  trade?"  questioned  the  victim. 

"Why,  yes,"  returned  the  tempter,  with  now  an 
effective  pretense  of  indifference;  "didn't  I  tell  you 
that  it  was  only  a  kind  of  cattle  business?" 

Jason  sat  and  gazed  at  the  figure  before  him.  He 
knew  the  man  was  purposely  misleading  him,  but  a  cer- 
tain unfailing  sense  of  moral  sufficiency  that  had,  in  all 


NIGHT  AND  MORNING.  19 

the  difficulties  of  his  life,  sustained  him  seemed  to  be 
slipping  away. 

"Cattle  lifting — outlawry!"  commented  the  fated 
and  reckless  object  of  social  and  governmental  ills.  The 
old,  old  story ! 

"Why,  now,"  was  the  reply,  in  an  aggrieved  tone, 
"a  little  business  in  cattle  and — er — things  that  are 
lost ! ' '  and  Brad  Simons,  looking  like  an  angel  rebuked 
in  the  delivery  of  a  message  of  salvation,  by  a  gesture  in- 
dicated in  space  how  somewhere  and  somehow  cattle  and 
"things"  could  disappear  and  be  humanely  rescued. 

Jump  pondered.  Convinced  of  the  unreliability  and 
worse  of  the  unscrupulous  cattle  dealer,  he  yet  felt,  in 
his  slowly  weakening  resolution,  a  sudden  fierce  attrac- 
tion to  the  wild  law  of  barbaric  self  redress.  The  voice 
of  liberty  in  all  ages  and  all  climes  vibrating  through 
the  seducer's  temptation  has  sung  this  never  changing 
song!  The  Scottish  clansman,  returning  to  his  thatch 
where  wife  and  bairn,  by  act  of  faithless  government, 
lay  murdered,  once  sought  the  rocks  and  fastnesses  of 
his  native  ^vilds  and,  Rob  Roy  like,  fattened  his  revenge 
on  the  chattels  and  the  blood  of  his  tyrants  and  oppres- 
sors ;  the  misused  of  the  middle  ages,  peasant  and  gentle, 
Jack  Cade  and  Robin  Hood,  had  found  relief  from  their 
intolerable  burdens  and  abuses  in  open  outlawry  and  re- 
bellion. Then  why  should  not  he,  thought  this  melan- 
choly instance  of  modern  faithlessness  and  wrong,  turn 
upon  his  own  times  and  kind  ? 

The  betrayed  and  ruined  man  hesitated,  and  in  his 
hesitation  was  the  first  seed  of  crime  of  which  all  govern- 
ment must  take  note — the  first  germ  of  revolt  in  the  re- 
taliation of  the  weak  when  abused  by  the  strong. 

"I  know — against  your  principles — it  is  so  much 
easier  to  go  on  sersdng  those  who  have  ruined  you ! ' '  The 


20  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

sneering  irony  and  sarcasm  of  this  speech  were  not  lost 
upon  Jason  Jump. 

"Listen,"  began  the  claimant  steadily:  "This  treat- 
ment by  the  government,  as  you  know,  broke  her  heart 
and  killed  my  wife  and  set  my  poor  children  adrift," — 
the  hearer  respectfully  inclined  his  head, — "and  it  will 
surely  kill  me  in  time,  but " 

"Bah!"  interrupted  the  listener,  "is  it  right  to  con- 
tinue like  a  poor,  helpless  fool  to  submit,  where  in  power 
they  are  capable  of  nothing  but  unbearable  abuse  and 
mistreatment — brutal  betrayal  of  their  country;  de- 
struction of  its  citizens?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  replied  Jason  Jump,  with  a  solemn 
and  pathetic  sadness. 

' '  Has  it  ever  been  or  will  it  ever  be  that  the  wronged, 
so  wronged,  will  not  have  to  rise  up  in  their  might  and 
redress  their  own  wrongs?" 

"True,"  replied  Jump. 

"You  had  better,"  said  the  cunning  revolutionary, 
"make  one  of  us." 

The  claimant's  surcharged  soul  had  been  tried  to  the 
last  point  of  endurance. 

"If  I  cannot  obtain  right  in  this  world,  one  way,  I 
will  another,"  burst  in  a  tortured  cry  from  the  hapless 
creature  in  final  and  open  rebellion  against  his  wrongs. 
The  speaker's  smooth  and  colorless  face  had  taken  on 
a  flush  not  wholly  attributable  to  the  liquor  he  had 
drunk;  and  as  he  continued  to  sit  and  watch  the  one 
opposite  him  he  seemed  to  undergo  some  subtle  change. 
An  evil  film  appeared  to  spread  itself  over  his  eyes,  and 
a  hardening  settled  in  the  finer  lines  about  his  mouth. 
The  whole  expression  of  the  man  had  altered — from  a 
countenance  of  openness  and  candor  his  had  become  one 
of  cunning,  treachery  and  deceit.  Thickly  and  ^^•ith 
apparent  difficulty  he  spoke  again.    "I  will  see  him;  I 


NIGHT  AND  MORNING.  21 

will  have  justice,  or — I  will !"  he  broke  off  with  a 

wild  and  menacing  snarl. 

The  other  nodded  his  head  understandingly. 

The  victim  of  the  injustice  of  government  sat  silent. 

And  the  phantoms  of  heartlessness,  wrong  and  op- 
pression and  of  the  night  before  upon  the  bridge  circled 
him  about,  mocked  and  pressed,  ever  pressed  him  on. 

And  this  was  Washington! 

Jason  Jump  elbowed  his  way  through  the  crowded 
corridors  of  the  capitol,  on  his  way  to  a  committee  room 
where  a  committee,  of  which  his  congressman  v/as  a 
member,  was  accustomed  to  hold  its  sessions.  As  Jump 
was  passing  rapidly  on,  the  woman  and  girl  whom  he 
had  met  on  the  day  previous  in  the  park  stepped  out 
from  the  recess  of  a  window,  where  they  had  detached 
themselves  from  the  crowd,  and  the  woman,  with  a 
pleased  smile,  greeted  the  hurrying  man. 

Mary  Walker  and  her  daughter !  Don 't  you  remem- 
ber them?  "No,"  you  say;  "but  I  remember  someone 
— something  about  a  w'oman  and  her  child  fighting — 
somewhere  struggling — for  existence.  Same  things,  isn't 
it?"    Yes,  same  thing — same  old  thing!  ^ 

Jason  paused. 

"Are  you  still  trying  to  get  them  to  do  something 
for  you?"  he  said  commiseratingly,  in  response  to  her 
greeting. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  woman;  while  the  girl,  nearing 
twenty  years  of  age  and  pretty,  turned  away  her  face 
framed  in  bronze  gold  hair,  and  now  mantled  with  a  sud- 
den flush  under  Jason  Jump's  grave  scrutiny,  and  aim- 
lessly let  her  glance  wander  off  through  the  window, 
where  her  dreamy,  puzzled  gaze  rested  upon  the  sloping 
lawn  of  the  capitol,  with  here  and  there  a  squirrel  skip- 
ping gaily  and  happily  about  in  the  sweet  spring  air. 


22  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"Wliat  will  he  do?"  asked  the  man,  staring  stonily 
into  the  eyes  of  the  mother.    ''Anything  new?" 

"He  says,  although  he  promised  to  do  so,  that  he 
cannot  get  me  a  place;  but  seems  unusually  interested 
in  Llona, ' '  said  Jump 's  informant,  with  a  gesture  in  the 
direction  of  the  younger  female.  The  face  of  the  older 
woman  wore  an  expression  of  uncertainty  and  uneasi- 
ness as  she  scanned  Jason's  countenance. 

"Your  daughter,"  was  the  simple  comment. 

"My  daughter,"  and  the  uneasiness  of  the  other  in- 
creased. 

' '  Do  you  want  him  to  be  so  interested  ? ' '  further  said 
Jason. 

"I  do  not,"  the  mother  was  positive  in  voice  and 
manner. 

' '  And  you  must  let  him  be  ? "  said  Jump  with  curious 
insistence. 

"We  must,  or  starve,"  cried  the  woman  hopelessly. 

"I  will  see,"  said  the  man,  "what  can  be  done." 
A  hard,  determined  look — one,  however,  inspired  by 
friendship  and  sympathy  for  the  mother  and  her  child 
— accompanied  his  earnest  speech. 

"Oh!  do,"  exclaimed  the  other. 

He  left  them,  and  forged  on  through  the  crowd. 
Some  as  yet  inextinguishable  spark  of  the  native  kin- 
dredship  of  humankind,  as  well  as  of  chivalry  and  rev- 
erence for  women,  burned  like  coals  of  fire  deep  down 
in  his  soul.    He  forged  on. 

"I'll  save  them  from  that  fellow  Swarth  Blazes," 
he  muttered,  and  who  knows  but  the  spirit  of  fair  play 
brooding  over  the  place  gave  him  credit ;  while  the  phan- 
toms and  the  shadows  ever  flew  before  him. 

And  still  this  was  the  capital  of  our  nation ! 


CHAPTER  11. 

A    GLIMPSE    OF    LAW    AND    GOVERNMENT;    TOGETHER    WITH 

SOME  THINGS   UNPLEASANTLY   DUE   TO 

THE  ABSENCE  OP  BOTH. 

The  applicant  for  justice  at  the  doors  of  the  last 
resort!  What  say  the  gloating  phantom  shapes  of  past 
faithlessness  and  sorrows? 

"They  who  come  here  ask  for  bread  and  receive  a 
stone!" 

0  Shadow,  does  this  carry  with  it  good  faith? 

The  hollow  voice  comes  taunting,  mocking  back: 

"It  carries  with  it  desperation  and  fatal  reckless- 
ness; and,  verily!  it  is  the  occasion  of  monstrous  and 
diabolical  evil,  beginning  the  great  movement  of  retali- 
ation and  reprisal  which  animates  the  injured  in  all 
nature ! ' ' 

And,  0  you  in  power!  In  this  final  stage,  the  sub- 
ject of  abuse,  facing  total  destitution  and  desertion,  has 
but  one  of  two  alternatives :  The  Law  of  Reprisal,  call 
it  criminal  or  otherwise;  or  The  Law  of  Death,  self  in- 
flicted— the  latter  surely  a  choice  hardly  to  be  expected 
as  offering  a  rational  solution  of  our  troubles,  in  the 
eminent  judgment  of  the  infallible  congress,  itself.  If, 
then,  oh,  wise  ones — oh,  humane  ones — we  can  do  no 
better,  and  as  we  can,  perhaps,  hardly  expect  our  abused 
citizens  to  considerately  destroy  themselves,  let  us  be 
mercifully  thankful  we  are  criminals  and  are  carefully 
preparing  the  way  of  becoming  an  organized  and  per- 
petual race  of  criminals  and  callous  and  hardened 
breakers  of  the  law. 


23 


24  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

The  phantoms  have  spoken. 

They  swirled,  did  the  people,  about  the  doors  of  con- 
gress, a  sluggish,  eddying  current  draAnng  surely  to  a 
vortex  where  many  go  down — where  few  survive.  They 
flowed  up  to  the  north  door  of  the  house,  which  looked 
through  the  long  vista  of  statuary  hall,  rotunda  and  cor- 
ridor to  the  south  door  of  the  senate.  They  ebbed  into 
the  adjacent  window  nooks  and  sections  of  hallway. 
They  fretted,  worried  and  fumed.  They  were  sullen 
and  threatening  whirlpools  of  humanity.  Was  there 
not  cause?  Do  all  of  us  get  justice? — The  soldier,  who 
has  journeyed  long  to  this  ]\Iecca,  the  luxury  of  which, 
for  the  individual  public  servant,  he  has  given  his  o%vn 
blood  to  purchase  and  provide;  the  little  Miss  Elite, 
with  her  birds ;  the  other  poor  creature,  bedizened  in 
flashy  garb  and  rouge ;  the  lame  and  halt  of  heart,  mind 
and  body — they  all  filled  the  circling  eddies  with  drift- 
ing castaways  to  be  reclaimed — never?  The  richly  clad, 
pompous,  rotund  example,  in  silk  hat,  links  of  gold 
watch  chain  extending  across  his  capacious,  oily  front ; 
swinging  in  his  imposing  gait  a  massive  gold-headed 
cane — he  was  there,  also.  Hence,  in  this  last  instance, 
the  owner  of  the  lobby,  in  its  turn  the  owner  of  the 
soul  of  congress  and  its  acts,  was  there.  The  frescoes 
upon  the  walls  of  this  palace  of  justice  and  law  showed, 
in  beautiful,  entrancing  colors  and  gilding,  the  figures 
of  youth,  of  purity,  of  liberty  and  of  good  faith.  Hence, 
once  more,  it  was  but  fitting  that  a  mother  followed  by 
a  sweet  and  lovely  girl  yet  in  her  teens  should  be  there, 
trying  pitifully  to  efface  her  own  less  engaging  and  more 
matured  personality  in  the  face  of  her  congressman 
(representative  or  sf^nator),  that  the  charm.s  of  the  blos- 
som brought  from  the  little  garden  at  home — the  child — 
the  daughter — might  brin^-  to  play  upon  the  immaculate 
congressional  sense  and  taste  an  influence  to  operate  in 


A  GLIMPSE  OF  LAW  AND  GOVERNMENT.    25 

relieving  and  supplying  their  dire  distress  and  want. 
Of  this  the  Goddess  of  Liberty,  Truth  and  Righteous- 
ness, construable  in  the  before  mentioned  frescoes, 
doubtless  took  note  of  record  and  official  justification. 
They  were  all  there;  even  the  priest — the  minister — the 
man  of  God — walked  with  sleek  self  consciousness  as- 
sured of  a  common  or  an  uncommon  chance  to  rise  or 
fall.  They  all  greeted  each  other,  here,  with  a  strange 
smile  of  unfamiliar  recognition.  They  knew  not  each 
other  save  by  the  common  likeness  they  bore  Him  they 
called  their  Maker.  They  were  a  multitude  of  strangers 
that  hard,  cruel  necessity  had  drawn  together.  But  in 
the  charming  indifference  of  this  enchanting  spot,  it 
was  good  that,  ''One  touch  of  nature  made  the  whole 
world  kin ! ' '  They  seethed  and  boiled  and  bubbled  and 
crowded  about  the  doors  of  the  national  halls  of  legisla- 
tion, hungry,  anxious,  careworn,  distracted,  little  know- 
ing, little  caring,  at  last,  whether  what  they  were  striv- 
ing for  represented  right,  justice,  fairness  or  not — even 
losing  sight,  in  the  end,  of  the  native  and  righteous  cause 
which  first  brought  them  there — stunted  in  every  moral 
sense,  ready,  as  in  the  case  of  Jason  Jump,  in  despera- 
tion to  resort  to  any  means  which  might  accomplish  their 
object — subsistence — life,  itself. 

And  this  is  our  system! 

The  shadows  are  flying,  flying.  Another  utterance. 
Hear  what  it  is :  Society  has  assumed  itself  to  be  the 
stronger — has  implied  the  individual  to  be  the  weaker. 
Society,  governed  by  a  few  mostly  self  placed  governors, 
has  made  its  own  conditions.  The  individual  has  sur- 
rendered to  them.  Those  conditions  are  imperfect.  So- 
ciety is  responsible  for  its  whole  and  its  parts.  Society 
is  guilty,  if  the  subject  individual  is  guilty.  Society 
should  be  punished,  if  the  individual  should  be  punished. 
The   leaders    and   the    organizers    of    association    must 


26  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

surely  and  inevitably  share  in  the  consequences  of  their 
own  faulty  and  selfish  construction,  and,  consciously  or 
other^vise,  are  unhappily  inviting  nameless  calamities 
that  were  best,  indeed,  left  unspoken  in  the  lives  of 
themselves  and  their  descendants, — results,  neverthe-. 
less,  surely  courting  grievous  revolution  and  sorrow, 
vtithout  the  individual  majority  awaking  to  respect 
and  sympathy  for  individual  hardship,  suffering  and 
M'ant. 

Let  us  draw  on  to  that  wonderful  beehive,  the  na- 
tional assembly.  There  are  good  bees  and  evil  bees  in 
the  marvelous  legislative  body — conscience  shall  answer 
which  are  the  good  and  which  the  bad. 

Mr.  "Wilson,  of  Chicago,  was  consulting  his  repre- 
sentative in  congress,  the  Honorable  Swarth  Blazes,  of 
the  Blank  District  of  the  State  of  Blank.  The  visiting 
gentleman  was  fat  and  shiny  and  smiled,  with  wide  and 
beaming  expansiveness,  as  he  consulted — in  the  usual 
way! 

''How's  the  old  gentleman?"  inquired  Mr.  Wilson 
pleasantly,  after  entering  the  presence. 

"What  old  gentleman?"  agreeably  rejoined  the  rep- 
resentative of  the  ' '  dear  people. ' ' 

"Your  Uncle  Samuel,"  responded  the  representative 
of  pork,  railroad  and  other  interests  in  which  it  was  a 
matter  of  no  concern  to  him  whether  the  "dear  people" 
were  interested  or  not. 

The  puzzled  congressman  was  obliged  to  ask  what  his 
visitor  meant,  as  ]\Ir.  Blazes  did  not  recall  having  on  his 
list  of  relations  any  uncle  of  that  name. 

"I  refer,"  explained  Mr.  Wilson  smilingly,  "to  the 
personage  known  in  our  national  history  as  Uncle  Sam." 

"A-a-h,"  assentingly  said  Mr.  Swarth  Blazes,  some- 
what at  a  loss,  in  the  present  turn  of  conversation,  as 
to  what  else  to  say. 


A  GLIMPSE  OF  LAW  AND  GOVERNMENT.    27 

Mr.  Wilson  pompously  proceeded: 

"Your  distinguished  relative,  I  understand,  is  not 
well — suffering  from  indigestion  of  the  treasury,"  the 
Chicagoan's  face  was  solemn, 

Swarth  perceived  the  dawn  of  a  joke. 

"He,"  continued  Mr.  Wilson,  "should  be  treated  to 
a  little  financial  blood  letting.  Phlebotomy,  financial 
phlebotomy,  my  dear  Blazes,  is  what  he  needs." 

The  member  laughed  heartily,  and  exclaimed  in  his 
delight : 

"Nothing  better  in  Mark  Twain, — 'indigestion  of  the 
treasury' — 'financial  phlebotomy!'  "  little  minute  guns 
of  quotations  from  his  rich  friend,  on  the  part  of  Mr. 
Blazes,  enabling  the  latter  to  call  up  his  ready  reserves 
for  the  balance  of  the  interview. 

"We  want  that  bill,  this  session,"  said  unctions  Mr. 
Wilson. 

"Um,"  doubtfully  replied  perplexed  Mr.  Blazes. 

"No,"  said  the  positive  Mr.  Wilson,  "not  'um,' — 
the  one " 

"Yes,  yes,"  hastily  assented  his  companion,  for  the 
committee  clerk  had  entered  the  room,  where  the  two 
were  occupied,  and  was  respectfully  waiting  to  speak  to 
the  member.  "What  is  it.  Brant?"  asked  the  congress- 
man. 

' '  jMrs.  Walker ! ' '  responded  the  man. 

"I'll  see  her  presently." 

The  clerk  withdrew. 

"I  know,  my  dear  fellow,"  resumed  the  member, 
when  he  and  Mr.  Wilson  were  alone,  "all  about  that  bit 
of  financial  blood  letting,"  and  the  two  joined  in  justly 
merry,  care-free  laughter,  that  would  have  pleased  Mr. 
Blazes'  honest  constituency,  mightily;  "but  there  is 
something  in  my  other  interests  before  the  house — be- 
fore congress,  you  know, — I  may  say,  I  have  some  old 


28  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

back  numbers, — ahem! — fellow's  waited  until,  I  expect, 
he's  a  little  in  need  of  the  money  involved  in  the  meas- 
ure." 

' '  What  has  that  to  do  ^dth  me  ? "  demanded  Wilson. 

' '  His  case  has  been  hanging  fire  for  some  years, ' '  the 
congressman  coughed  deprecatingly  behind  his  hand, 
"and  I  wouldn't  be  at  all  surprised,  as  it  is  a  just  claim, 
if  he  would  not  expect,  some  day,  to  have  it  passed.  It 
has  been  passed,"  remarked  the  witty  legislator  at  this 
point,  "but  mostly  by.  My  powers  of  securing  leigsla- 
tion,  like  a  majority  of  us,  are  limited.  If  I  give  them 
to  you,  the  other  fellow  gets  nothing.  He,  really,  you 
know,  ought  to  have  the  right  of  way,  sometime." 

"Do  you  mean  to  sidetrack  us  for  him?"  glowered 
Wilson. 

"Oh,  dear  no, — not  in  the  least;  do  not  think  such 
a  thing  for  an  instant,  Mr.  Wilson, — not  for  the  world. 
You  do  me  a  great  injustice,  indeed  you  do." 

The  groveling  of  the  free  American  spirit  was  much 
appreciated  by  the  porkman. 

"Will  we  get  that  bill?"  ' 

"Oh,  yes." 

"And  now  about  that  tariff  schedule:  Do  we  get  pro- 
tection?" 

Blazes  assured  the  helpless  "infant  industry"  that 
everything  was  "all  fixed." 

"Well,  see  that  it  is,"  Wilson  said  bluntly.  "We  pay 
enough  to  elect  you  fellows."  Then  Mr.  Wilson  smiled, 
fatly. 

"Tip  you  gave  us  on  stocks.  Same  place — same 
way — your  share.  Satisfactory?"  and  Mr.  Wilson 
beamed  both  fatly  and  glowingly. 

"You  bet,"  replied  Mr.  Blazes,  with  enthusiasm. 

Mr.  Wilson  retired;  strutted  through  the  capitol; 
menaced  the  peace  of  society ;  cast  covetous  and  amorous 


A  GLIMPSE  OF  LAW  AND  GOVERNMENT.    29 

eyes  upon  ilary  Walker's  daughter,  Mona,  whom  he 
saw,  but  did  not  know,  and,  at  last,  went  to  Chicago, 
where  he  belonged  and,  doubtless,  ought  to  stay. 

Jason  Jump,  on  reaching  the  door  of  the  committee 
room  which  he  sought,  inquired  of  a  doorkeeper  in  at- 
tendance if  the  man,  in  whose  quest  the  former  editor 
was  there,  was  within  and  could  be  seen.  It  had  reached 
the  stage,  in  Jason's  case,  when  the  people's  representa- 
tive, being  called  on  by  a  relic  of  the  past,  is  usually 
"not  in,"  and  it  was,  in  all  likelihood,  a  fortunate 
chance  for  Jason  that  the  door  of  the  committee  room 
happened  to  be  open  and  that  his  congressman,  in  range 
of  vision,  sat  within.    The  committee  was  not  in  session. 

'  *  Come  in  Jump, ' '  called  the  member,  refreshed  after 
his  recent  important  conference  with  Mr.  Wilson,  and 
reclining,  with  an  expressive  leg  on  a  committee-room 
table,  comfortably  and  indolently  in  a  big  arm  chair. 
Mr,  Blazes  waved  two  fingers,  between  which  rested  a 
cigar,  negligently  in  the  direction  of  his  caller. 

The  claimant  entered,  stood  silently  before  Mr. 
Swarth  Blazes,  at  the  familiar,  long,  green-cloth-covered- 
top,  committee-room  table  on  which  rested  Mr.  B's  leg, 
and  finally  spoke. 

"Can  I  see  you  in  private?"  he  asked  quietly. 

A  few  of  the  interesting  moments  assigned  to  our 
valued  public  servants  had  been  spent,  by  Mr.  Blazes,  in 
noting  the  fact  that  his  caller's  shirt  was  clean,  and  the 
likelihood  of  the  claimant  wanting  a  loan  correspond- 
ingly diminished.  There  were  present,  in  the  committee 
room,  besides  Jason's  member,  one  or  two  other  congres- 
sional pillars  of  a  free  country  strengthening  the  scene 
in  like  manner  of  graceful  abandon  employed  by  Mr. 
Swarth  Blazes.  Considering  the  lazy,  cynical  and  coldly 
indifferent  curiosity  of  these  last  named  indispensable 
aids  to  human  society,  and,  after  a  final  scrutiny  of  his 


30  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

caller,  satisfied  on  the  general  question  of  a  loan,  Jump 's 
pillar  took  his  own  leg  down  from  the  table,  straightened 
a  little  in  his  chair,  cleared  his  throat  importantly  and 
answered, 

"Why,  why, — ye-es,  if " 

"Well,  it  is — most  important,"  rejoined  the  visitor, 
a  trifle  irritably,  and  anticipating  the  other's  objections 
and  waving  them  aside  with  a  weary  gesture  of  the 
hand. 

The  member  of  the  national  assembly  rose  reluc- 
tantly, as  if  unwilling  to  squander  valuable  time  spent 
in  the  beloved  nation 's  service  and  the,  certainly,  equally 
highly  essential  enjoyment  of  a  cigar,  and  led  the  way 
to  a  private  room.  The  walls  and  ceilings  of  the  large 
apartment  they  here  entered,  like  those  of  the  first  room 
and  other  parts  of  the  great  building,  were  bright  wdth 
gilding  and  color,  the  floor  was  soft  with  rich  carpet, 
the  furniture  massive.  Here,  Jason  Jump,  seated  oppo- 
site to  Mr.  Blazes,  stared  vacantly,  for  a  space,  into  the 
plainly  disconcerted  countenance  of  the  congressman. 
The  costly  clock  provided  for  the  precious  moments  of 
congressional  time  by  an  appreciative  government  and 
a  few  equally  appreciative  and  unselfish  merchant  phi- 
lanthropists ticked  with  painful  distinctness  in  the  grow- 
ing silence.  The  Honorable  Swarth  Blazes  fidgeted — 
perhaps  an  undignified  thing  for  the  Honorable  Swarth 
to  do,  but  the  truth  of  history  compels  the  admission 
that  he  did  it. 

]Mr.  Swarth  Blazes,  seeing  the  other  either  would  not 
or  could  not  open  the  trying  interview,  finally  in  self 
defense  was  obliged  to  do  so,  himself. 

"Your  claim,"  said  he,  presently,  "does  not  seem 
to  get  on."  He  caught  a  peculiar  glitter  in  the  eyes  of 
his  follower,  as  he  uttered  this  short  speech. 

It  passed  through  the  mind  of  the  harassed  and  tor- 


A  GLIMPSE  OF  LAW  AND  GOVERNMENT.   31 

tured  visitor,  that  he  could  kill  this  man  sitting  there ! 
How  long  now  had  it  been  since  the  latter  had  begun  to 
play  the  once  influential  editor  for  political  gain  ?  Jason 
Jump  did  not  remember.  "His  claim  did  not  seem  to 
get  on!"  It  would  presently  be,  "Well,  we'll  put  it 
through  next  session,"  and  "next  session,"  like  "to- 
morrow," never  came. 

"No,"  said  the  constituent,  "it  does  not  seem  to  get 
on."  His  voice  sounded  hoarse — he  moistened  his  lips; 
thought  of  the  mother  and  daughter  he  had  just  left; 
thought  of  a  night  of  sleepless  despair  and  remorse  over 
the  failures  of  his  own  past  life,  which  he  himself  had 
just  passed  following  his  interview  with  the  cattle 
trader ;  thought  of  the  future.  ' '  No, ' '  he  repeated  with 
an  effort,  "it  does  not  seem  to  get  on."  Helplessly,  wdtli 
his  shaking  hand,  he  dashed  the  perspiration  from  his 
brow.  He  had  come  here  to  tell  this  man  the  awful 
truths  of  the  hour.  How  was  it  to  be  done ;  and  if  done 
what  would  it  amount  to?  How  weak,  powerless,  im- 
potent he  seemed. 

"Is  there  anything  more  I  can  do  for  you?"  queried 
Swarth  Blazes,  stifling  a  yawn  with  the  tips  of  his  fin- 
gers. 

"I  think,"  observed  the  other  smilelessly,  "you  have 
about  done  for  me,  already.  There  was  a  time  when 
you  could  have  done  everything  for  me — a  time,  when, 
long  ago,  I  allowed  myself  to  be  drawn  into  this  by  your 
assurances;  spending  a  fortune;  wrecking  my  life,  and 
killing  my  wife  with  the  heartbreak  of  it  all;  a  time 
when  you  could  have  either  helped  me,  or  told  me  my 
efforts  were  useless — when  you  sacrificed  me,  that  you 
might,  by  seeming  to  serve  me,  secure  the  political  sup- 
port of  my  friends.  There  was  a  time  when  you  could 
have  treated  me  as  honor,  duty  and  friendship  alike  dic- 
tate— a  time  when,  I  now  know,  you  betrayed  me  and 


32  THE  CAVERNS  OP  DAWN. 

IN  FAVOR  OF  THOSE  WHOSE  CLAIMS  WERE  A 
TISSUE  OF  INJUSTICE  AND  FRAUD.  Stay,  hear 
me  out ! ' '  continued  his  visitor  in  a  low,  intense  voice, 
as  Blazes,  his  face  resembling  his  name,  started;  and 
there  was  now  and  had  been  steadily  growing  in  Jason 
Jump  something  that  compelled  the  other  to  listen. 
"Your  selfishness  has  been  my  undoing — selfishness  now 
growing  in  the  high  places  of  the  earth  until  our  ideals 
are  but  sun  flashes  in  the  fog;  and  the  well  meaning, 
lost  in  the  deep  waters  off  the  coast  of  government,  find 
themselves  wrecked  upon  the  rocks  of  retaliation  and 
crime.    I  am  going  home — home!"  he  laughed  wildly. 

' '  Come,  come,  Jump  ! ' '  exclaimed  Blazes,  in  not  only 
an  instinct  of  alarm  blended  with  his  anger,  but  in  one 
of  habitual  prompting  to  faithless  political  temporizing, 
as  well. 

"Jump  me  no  Jumps!"  thundered  and  flamed  the 
injured  and  defrauded  constituent  springing  to  his  feet, 
and  towering  over  his  startled  representative.  "The 
truth!     Can  you  give  me  justice?" 

"I  cannot,"  said  the  congressman,  surprised  into 
telling  the  truth. 

"Then  God  help  you  and  me!"  cried  the  other,  as 
he  turned  and  left  the  room. 

"What's  the  matter,  Blazes?"  asked  a  friend,  upon 
Blazes'  return  to  the  adjoining  apartment. 

"Oh,"  said  Mr.  Blazes  lightly,  "only  a  crazy  claim- 
ant." 

Retribution!  upon  one  and  all — upon  government 
for  unfettered  and  reckless  men  and  women  and  chil- 
dren, as  they  fly  by  day  and  night  throughout  the  space 
about  us. 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE   RATS   LEAVE   THE   SHIP.' 


""We  wish  to  see  Mrs.  "Walker,"  Jason  Jump  was 
speaking,  at  the  door  of  a  neglected  and  ill  looking  house 
not  far  from  the  capitol. 

"Come  in,"  replied  the  slatternly  female  servant 
who  had  answered  the  bell. 

Jump  and  the  counsellor  of  his  revolt  entered  the 
place,  where  the  object  of  their  call  was  to  be  found.  It 
was  a  mean,  second-class  rooming-house  they  were  in. 
Nostril  and  eye  were  alike  greeted  with  the  unsavory 
evidences  of  the  habitation  of  the  congressional  poor. 
Age  was  rifling  the  walls  of  paper ;  the  furniture  of  up- 
holstery, and  the  atmosphere,  saturated  with  ancient 
mustiness  and  time  worn  odors,  of  purity  to  the  point  of 
decay  and  dissolution.  These  things  will  annoy  congress 
some  day  and  it  will  have  them  removed — a  mere  annoy- 
ance ! 

Jump's  companion  sniffed  the  situation  with  little 
apparent  relish. 

"Why,"  he  exclaimed  cynically,  "do  you  want  to 
help  them?" 

"The  woman — ^Irs.  Walker — and  her  daughter — 
Mona?"  responded  Jason  mechanically.  "I  am  still  a 
man.  Our  bargain — you  remember.  Brad,  safe — safe 
and  respectable  employment ! ' ' 

"Oh,"  said  the  other  carelessly,  flicking  the  ash 
from  a  piece  of  cigar  he  held  in  his  hand,  "  I  '11  stand  by 
my  agreement  vrith  you.' ' 

"Good,"  said  the  betrayed  government  applicant. 

33 


34  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

Mary  Walker  at  this  moment  appeared.  She  looked 
pale  and  worried. 

Jason  advanced,  extended  his  hand  and  smiled. 

"Did  you  see  Blazes?"  he  asked  pointedly. 

"Oh!  Mr.  Jump,  yes;  cannot  we  leave  Washington 
— leave  it  forever?"  cried  the  woman  excitedly. 

"And  Blazes ?" 

"Cannot  we  leave  Washington?"  is  all  she  could  be 
brought  to  say. 

Jason  Jump  looked  at  her  keenly. 

"Forever — forever,"  she  repeated  eagerly. 

"And,"  commented  the  already  disappointed  claim- 
ant, gravely,  "is  it,  indeed,  that  bad?" 

"That  bad  and  worse,"  and  she  burst  into  tears. 

After  struggling  with  her  emotion  for  a  moment,  the 
distressed  woman  went  on  more  quietly: 

"I  am  homeless — I  am,  I  was  about  to  say,  friend- 
less; but  I  feel  gratefully  sure,  Mr.  Jump,  that  you  are 
my  friend. ' ' 

Jump  muttered  something  which  sounded  like, 

' '  Whatever  else  I  am,  I  am  that ! ' ' 

But  the  object  of  his  interest  seemed  to  take  no  notice 
and  hurried  on. 

"Except  for  Mona,"  she  said,  pathetically  and  \\'ist- 
fully  looking  into  Jason  Jump's  sympathetic  face,  "I 
am  alone.  She  and  her  father,  now  dead,  made  up  my 
— our — existence.  Selfishly,  this  man  here — "  she 
avoided  mention  of  a  name — "selfishly,  this  man  here 
would  play  me  false.  He  was  to  have  secured  me,  not 
my  daughter,  a  position — work.  He  insists  on  the  place 
being  given  to  Mona.  I  am  perfectly  competent — cap- 
able ;  he  will  not  give  me  the  place — he  will  not  explain. 
I  am  desperate.  He  will  not  help  me.  He  owes  it  to  the 
memory  of  his  friend,  my  dead  husband,  to  do  so.  He 
was  greatly  aided,  by  Col.  Walker  while  alive,  in  his 


"THE  RATS  LEAVE  THE  SHIP."  35 

present  political  fortunes.     Col.  Walker,  you  know,  ]\Ir. 
Jump,"  said  the  wife  simply,  "was  a  good  soldier." 

"I  knew  your  husband,  and  of  his  friendship  for — 
the  man,"  interjected  Jump.    "He  was  a  brave  officer." 
"You  knew  him,"  said  the  woman,  "but  not  me." 
"Not  till  I  met  you  here,  after  he  died,"  said  Jason. 

"This — man,"  continued  Mrs.  Walker 

They  had  been  seated — Jason  Jump,  Simons  and  the 
widowed  applicant — and  the  old  and  insecure  chair,  on 
which  the  bulky  figure  of  Brad  Simons  had  been  resting, 
suddenly  as  the  sitter  tilted  back  gave  way,  precipitating 
the  occupant  sprawling  upon  the  floor.  The  catastrophe, 
under  other  and  less  trying  circumstances,  would  have 
been  ludicrous  enough  and  productive  of  an  explosion  of 
mirth,  but,  at  this  stage  of  her  experience  and  suffering, 
it  but  intensified  and  brought  into  greater  relief  the 
painfully  sordid  and  humiliating  situation  of  the  un- 
happy female. 

In  his  surprise,  Simons  involuntarily  uttered  an 
oath;  apologized;  got  upon  his  feet;  ruefully  examined 
the  broken  chair,  and  politely  selected  another  and  a 
safer  and  firmer  seat.  Mrs.  Walker,  whose  overwrought 
nerves  had  already  brought  her  to  a  state  closely  border- 
ing upon  hysteria,  once  more  broke  into  tears ;  and  Jason 
Jump  silently  anathematized  congress,  the  government, 
the  president  of  the  United  States,  the  various  governors 
of  the  same,  and  "all  others  in  authority." 

After  her  second  attack  of  chagrin  and  grief  had, 
with  the  woman,  in  a  measure  subsided,  Jump  spoke 
soothingly  and  encouragingly. 

"I  have  brought  a  friend,"  said  Jason  indicating 
Brad  Simons,  to  whom,  since  their  entrance,  Mrs. 
Walker  had  been  but  formally  introduced, — "a  friend. 
To  leave  you  here  is  now,  of  course,  impossible.  Mr. 
Simons  will  tell  you." 


36  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"Mr.  Jump  and  I  have  arranged,"  said  Simons 
evenly,  "if  you  will  go,  to  take  you  and  your  daughter 
away  with  us.  She,  as  well  as  yourself,  will  be  assured 
of  a  means  of  support. ' '    Brad  Simons  waited. 

The  woman  had  never  met  Simons  before  the  present 
visit.  However,  she  knew  Jason  Jump  well,  and  felt 
justified  in  trusting  him  fully. 

She  hesitated. 

"I — I  know  no  other  way."  Mona's  mother  strug- 
gled with  herself — paused.  ' '  What  can  we  do !  give 
us  a  little  time — oh,  we  can  do  nothing  but  accept. ' ' 

"Then,"  exclaimed  Brad  Simons  cheerfully,  "let 
that  be  settled." 

"It  is  settled,"  said  Jason  Jump, 

The  capitol,  in  brooding  and  solemn  majesty,  still 
sat  stately  and  silent  upon  the  hill,  when  the  two  men 
came  forth  from  the  woman 's  dwelling  place ;  it  did  not 
totter — it  did  not  collapse  and  its  walls  crash  in  and 
grind  each  other  into  dust — a  dust  to  mercifully  rise 
above  the  wreck  of  sweet  good  faith  to  cloud  and  hide 
the  grinning  and  diabolical  features  of  selfish  and  dis- 
torted evil  ever  lurking  behind  society's  humane  edifice 
of  alluring  promise,  security  and  hope. 

Not  long  after  these  happenings,  there  suddenly  and 
unannounced  appeared  in  the  midst  of  an  unorganized 
and  lawless  country  element,  in  a  disturbed  locality  of 
the  State  of  Indiana,  a  mysterious  and  unknown  charac- 
ter, strange  and  dominating  to  the  duller  and  less  acute 
faculties  of  those  with  whom  he  seemed  to  have  been 
already  prepared  to  cast  his  lot.  The  disorderly  and  dis- 
connected outrages  which,  previously  to  the  stranger's 
coming,  these  unruly  spirits  had  been  accustomed  to 
perpetrate  at  random  intervals  upon  the  so  called  better 
ordered  portions  of  society  were  speedily  welded  and 


"THE  RATS  LEAVE  THE  SHIP."  37 

united,  by  this  sinister  and  unwelcome  stranger,  into  an 
organized  and  continuous  unity.  He  had  come  among 
ignorant  and  unlettered  off-scourings  of  a  primitive 
region ;  and  soon,  by  profound  craft  and  cunning,  easily 
subdued  his  crude  and  undeveloped  associates  to  the  en- 
tire and  complete  mastership  of  his  iron  and  inflexible 
will.  He  was  gifted  with  a  singular  intelligence,  which 
would  have  been  called  commanding  intellect  under  any 
other  guise  than  that  of  a  seemingly  uncouth,  uncultured 
countryman.  The  newcomer  was  apparently  unedu- 
cated— a  coarse-fibered  fellow — the  male,  brutal,  primal 
— in  all,  save  concern  for  the  female.  > 


CHAPTER  IV. 

* '  THE  OTHER  WOM.IN  IN  THE  CASE. ' ' 

The  child,  at  last,  was  born.  The  breathless  world 
had  waited — that  is,  the  breathless  little  world  of  the 
obscure  country  folk  way  down  in  Indiana.  And  it  was 
a  fine  girl.  Old  Doctor  Swathburn,  who  had  invariably 
presided  over  the  introduction  of  worthy  members  of 
society  into  the  world  on  like  interesting  occasions — and 
given  calomel  and  herbs  to  every  patient  in  the  section 
of  country  his  duties  had  covered — for  a  quarter  of  a 
century,  congratulated  tlie  country  people,  man  and 
wife,  on  the  happy  and  successful  outcome,  and  smiled, 
as  was  his  custom,  benignantly  and  cheerfully  whenever 
opportunity  offered.  The  genial  old  physician  was  be- 
loved, respected  and  trusted  by  everyone,  although  quite 
indifferent  and  callous  to  all  ideas  of  modern  advance- 
ment, viewing  the  aggravating  and  vexing  innovations 
of  his  brother  practitioners  as  not  only  infringements 
upon  his  own  rights  and  privileges  but  upon  right  and 
justice  in  the  abstract.  The  young  lady,  for  whose  en- 
ticing appearance  upon  the  scene  of  our  story  we  are, 
in  part,  indebted  to  the  amiable  offices  of  benevolent 
Doctor  Swathburn,  at  the  early  period  of  her  first  en- 
trance into  this  life  found  herself,  though  it  may  be  un- 
consciously, projected  into  this  very  atmosphere  of  oppo- 
sition to  the  enlightened,  more  humane  and  more  sen- 
sible methods  of  doing  things.  The  face  set  sternly 
against  advancement  is  not  new.  The  child,  one  day 
grown  older,  was  to  demand  a  better  understanding  and 
enlightenment    of    "old   fogyism."      Extending    to    all 

38 


' '  THE  OTHER  WOMAN  IN  THE  CASE. ' '       39 

professions — to  that  of  law,  of  education,  of  religion — 
her  life  was  destined  to  have,  in  the  groping  darkness  of 
the  environment  of  her  birth,  a  fitting  note,  as  it  were, 
of  initiation. 

We  do  not  want  to  advance ;  we  want  to  sit  still — 
enjoy  old  bigotry  and  conditions.  The  railroad  will 
take  us  to  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  and  we  feel,  somehow,  that 
we  have  committed  sacrilege  beyond  redemption  when 
the  brakeman  puts  his  head  in  the  car  door  and  shouts, 
"Nazareth — all  off,"  now  don't  we?  Pride  of  convic- 
tion brooks  no  correction.  Plowever,  it  is  one  of  the  ex- 
quisite sacrifices  demanded  of  us,  that  we  give  up  the 
old  for  the  new.  With  our  pride  in  the  past  taxed  by 
our  untried  faith  in  the  future,  the  surrender  of  long 
established  beliefs  offers,  perhaps,  the  one  great  problem 
of  our  lives.  Could  we  but  graciously  accept  the  inevi- 
table degree  of  necessary  relinquishment  involved  in  all 
development,  happiness  were  assured. 

The  child  was  like  any  other  child — it  was  born;  it 
was  brought  into  life  with  the  same  old  questions  as 
regards  a  state  of  previous  being  and  one  hereafter,  and 
it  required  the  same  old  general  diet — milk.  It  was 
pink,  as  usual,  in  color,  and  called  for  the  same  old  atten- 
tions, in  the  infantile  and  maternal  matter  of  diminu- 
tive articles  of  attire,  that  the  institution  of  babydora 
has  rendered  hoary  and  reverend  throughout  the  ages. 
It  was  a  good  baby — so  its  mother  would  have  us  believe 
— it  did  not  cry  (very  often),  and  was  surprisingly  in- 
telligent— it  looked  at  you  out  of  its  eyes!  All  these 
things  marked  it  as  worthy  of  remark  and  stamped  it  as 
remarkable.  The  little  thing  did  not,  so  far  as  we  may 
here  give  out,  know  that  it  had  a  large  share  of  trials 
awaiting  it  in  the  new  world  into  which  it  had  been 
ushered;  and  we  feel  an  ever  increasing  reluctance  to 
needlessly  darken  the  atmosphere  of  this  period  of  its 


40  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

life,  with  any  form  of  religious  or  social  skepticism  or 
doubt.  That  the  hidden  and  unexplored  future  had  in 
store  its  own  portion  of  cares  for  the  wee  mite — the  tiny 
wayfarer — might  not  be  denied;  but  that  we  should,  for 
any  cause  whatsoever,  be  obliged  to  yiew  the  conditions 
of  its  existence,  either  at  any  time  before  its  coming,  or 
now,  or  hereafter,  in  any  other  than  an  unquestioningly 
and  absolutely  hopeful  and  cheerful  sense  may  be 
doubted,  the  matter  dismissed  and  the  little  one  permit- 
ted to  go  to  sleep. 

After  the  child  got  a  bit  older,  it  was  christened  in 
a  church.  It  was  called  Delia,  the  surname  being  Brad- 
dock.  The  name  Delia  soon  became  abbreviated  to  De, 
and  De  she  vras  always  called.  When  the  baby  grew  up 
it  developed  originality;  and  it  is  here  we  have  an  un- 
avoidable duty  to  perform  concerning  the  reader's  in- 
terest before  proceeding  further  into  the  really  enter- 
taining, exciting  and  thrilling  narrative  we  have  to  re- 
late. 

Let  it  first  be  clearly  understood  that  I  do  not  deny 
the  essential  truth  of  Scriptures ;  but  rest  upon  their  im- 
plied if  not  literal  promise  of  a  new  dispensation,  and  in 
the  blessed  assurance  of  their  power  to  "bind  and 
loose. ' ' 

About  the  first  thing  the  age,  following  the  teachings 
of  the  Christian  Era,  fastens  upon  a  child — causes  it, 
indeed,  to  fully  realize — is  Fear, — the  attempt  is  even 
gravely  made  to  control  infant  love  through  fear,  and 
the  amazing  and  eminently  fitting  and  proper  result  is 
productive  of  profound  edification!  The  first  worthy 
lessons,  in  the  divinely  beautiful  atmosphere  of  home, 
are  Fear  of  Parental  Punishment ;  The  Dark  Room,  with 
its  nameless,  unreal,  soul  inspiring  horrors,  and,  last  but 
not  least,  the  carefully  instructed,  entrancing  and  trem- 
bling fright  of  the  childish  monster  of  iniquity  in  the 


' '  THE  OTHER  WOMAN  IN  TPIE  CASE. ' '       41 

face  of  God  Almiglity.  Perhaps,  it  has  not  yet  occurred 
to  us  to  endeavor  to  inculcate  virtue  only  for  virtue's 
sake,  unselfishness  only  for  unselfishness'  sake,  truth 
only  for  truth's  sake, — but  we  do  it  in  cringing  coward- 
ice and  terror,  where  principle  alone  for  principle's 
sake  has  no  part ;  and  what  a  field  of  fruitful  perfection 
and  soul  satisfying  wisdom  is  bountifully  provided! 

We  are  unhappily  yet  the  unjust  and  slavish  sul)- 
jeets  of  the  prejudices  and  effects  of  mortal  fear  and 
frenzied  dread  derived  from  our  earliest  and  most  im- 
pressionable period — childhood.  We  are  still  controlled 
in  the  supreme  rule  and  even  in  the  superstition  of 
religion's  abhorrent  precept  of  eternal  punishment  sup- 
ported by  the  commands  and  teachings  of  a  zealous  and 
unquestioning  church,  which  employs  fear  for  its  ruling 
force.  This  is  our  measure  of  delicious  happiness,  joy, 
and  All-Love ! — You,  crippled  and  stunted  in  your  mind 
and  heart  from  birth,  have  had  this  to  contend  with;  I 
have  had  it;  we  all  have  walked  maimed  and  shorn  of 
our  natural  rights  and  stature  in  the  hardening  and  toil- 
ing if  necessary  past.  It  is,  therefore,  not  Avouderful 
that  little  De  should  have  the  same  conditions  beset  her 
own  baljy  way ;  and,  in  after  years,  should  find  her  soul 
recoil  from  the  hideous  attempt  to  make  eternal — make 
earthly  life  conform  to  such  unheard  of  present  seeming 
absurdities  and  impossibilities. 

She  signaled  her  advent  into  the  growing  stages  of 
small  girlhood  by  a  singularly  keen  and  intelligent  view 
of  the  situation.  The  infallible  kindness  of  motherly  love, 
upon  one  occasion  under  the  rule  of  fear,  had  inflicted 
the  usual  punishment  for  some  minor  offense  that  might 
have  gone  without  chastisement  altogether  had  it  but 
received  the  attention  it  alone  merited.  The  parent  being 
promptly  and  truthfully  informed,  by  her  helpless  off- 
spring, that  her  mother  would  not  do  such  things  if  she 


42  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

were  not  "the  biggest,"  in  a  further  burst  of  rapturous 
affection  locked  the  dangerous  and  menacing  character 
in  a  dark  closet.  De  is  reported  as  vowing  she  would 
never  come  out  any  more.  And,  in  all  likelihood,  she 
never  would  have  done  so  had  not  a  gleam  of  intelligence 
appeared,  after  a  while,  to  take  possession  of  the  brain 
of  her  well  meaning  though  misguided  parent,  who  went 
to  the  closet  in  time  to  get  the  child  do\\Ti  from  an  at- 
tempt to  hang  itself.  The  youthful  mind  had  just  real- 
ized the  result  of  coming  into  such  a  world,  and  had  lost 
no  time  in  evincing  a  surprising  though  mistaken  desire 
of  getting  out  of  it.  The  surpassing  beauties  of  "spare 
the  rod  and  spoil  the  child"  were  thus  made  duly  mani- 
fest. De,  however,  an  exception  to  the  majority,  was 
not  made  viciously  deceitful  by  such  training ;  and  fared 
on  to  the  end  with  the  nobility  and  native  truth  of  her 
character  unspoiled  by  the  ordinarily  fatal  mistakes  of 
"bringing  up." 

Punishment  makes  wrong,  not  right. 

Child  slavery,  the  rule  of  the  weak  by  the  strong,  the 
oppression  of  the  young  by  their  forebears  and  those  in 
authority,  exists  in  other  and  far  more  reprehensible 
and  hurtful  forms  than  those  of  the  mills  and  the  mines. 

After  awhile  De  grew  to  be  quite  a  girl.  The  farm 
interested  her;  she  made  effort  to  be  obedient,  and  her 
parents  had  little  cause  to  complain.  She  displayed  a 
tendency,  however,  to  learn  in  other  fields.  She  was 
an  apt  scholar  in  the  neighborhood  country  school ;  and 
so  apparent  v/as  her  disposition  to  acquire  knowledge, 
that,  in  the  unlettered  minds  of  her  parents,  it  early  be- 
came a  curious  subject  of  discussion  what  to  do  with  her. 
The  father  and  mother  had  lived  on  their  farm  all  their 
lives ;  were,  in  their  way,  conscientious  and  God  fearing. 
If  they,  themselves,  were  possessed  of  the  advantages  of 
any  schooling,  those  advantages  consisted  of  the  most 


"THE  OTHER  WOMAN  IN  THE  CASE."       43 

primitive  and  elementary  kind,  and  the  results  embraced 
the  possible  ability,  after  a  fashion,  to  read,  write  and 
cipher.  This  is  a  tale  of  the  simplest  elements  of  life, 
those  from  which  the  fabric  of  existence  is  constructed 
as  the  clay  image  is  molded  out  of  the  primeval  loam. 
At  the  very  threshold  of  learning,  how  could  jMother 
Braddock  and  old  Uncle  Peter  know,  appreciate  or  real- 
ize that  their  child  might  have  leanings  to  things  of  an- 
other world  than  theirs — the  world  of  modern  thought 
and  enlightenment?  But  De  had  just  these  leanings. 
The  old  people,  with  their  prejudices,  had  to  give  way, 
and  De  went  to  a  more  advanced  medium  of  education 
than  that  afforded  by  the  simple  system  in  operation  at 
the  little  country  schoolhouse  near  the  old  homestead. 
Notwithstanding,  the  difference  between  the  country 
schoolhouse  and  the  new  school  was  not  so  great ;  and  her 
surroundings  at  the  small  neighboring  town,  where  her 
search  for  knowledge  had  placed  her,  continued  to  be  of 
the  humblest.  She  was,  however,  bright,  quick  and  in- 
telligent; and  soon  began  to  be  looked  upon  as  some- 
thing of  a  prodigy.  Such  instructions  as  she  obtained 
were  entirely  non-sectarian.  The  earlier  neighborhoods, 
in  rural  localities,  possessed,  kindly  to  a  free  intellect, 
few  other  educational  advantages.  She  was  reared,  so 
far  as  religion  went,  in  the  faith  of  her  parents.  Her 
mother  and  her  father  became  ]\Iethodists  when  their 
mothers  and  tlieir  fathers  brought  tliem,  as  infants,  into 
the  world ;  as  her  grandmother  and  her  grandfather  and 
a  dim  line  of  ancestors  had  borne  Methodism  with  them. 
De  began  with  the  Methodists;  but,  by  and  by,  startled 
her  shocked  and  scandalized  neiglibors  and  family  by 
becoming  a  Catholic — a  Roman  Catholic.  In  De's  time, 
the  ignorant  bigotry  and  superstition  of  all  sects  viewed 
with  horror,  hatred  and  exclusion — really,  three  saerod 
and  holy  principles  to  employ  in   the   fraternity    and 


44  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

brotherhood  of  Christ  ( ?) — viewed  with  horror,  hatred 
and  exclusion  each  and  every  other's  creed  and  sect. 
De,  as  a  Roman  Catholic,  was  finally  accepted  by  her 
family  and  friends;  for,  after  the  manner  of  existing 
humankind,  she  was  beloved  by  all ;  but  there  was  some- 
thing strange  about  the  girl  that  few  could  understand, 
and  which  caused  her  many  times  to  be  viewed,  by  old 
Peter  and  Martha  Braddock,  with  puzzled  interest  and 
grave  speculation. 

And  so  De,  -wdth  her  originality  and  the  thousand 
and  one  things  it  implied,  was  destined  to  become  a  very 
remarkable  ''other  woman  in  the  case." 


CHAPTER  V. 


BRAD    SIMONS   AND   DE    BRADDOCK, 

Brad  Simons  was  an  older  man  than  De  Braddock 
was  a  woman;  and  occasioned  some  comment  when  it 
appeared  that  he  had  fallen  in  love  with  her.  It  was 
when  De  came  out  of  school  that  it  became  apparent 
Brad  was  bent  on  marrying  her.  She  certainly  did  not 
favor  his  suit.  Her  father  was  always  impressed  with 
Brad's  bank  account;  while  Martha  Braddock  as 
strongly  sympathized  with  her  child.  Simons  stood  high 
in  the  community  and  gave  no  cause  of  question  or  sus- 
picion. He  was  thrifty,  and  at  all  times  found  means 
to  impress  his  neighbors  and  companions  favorably.  He 
appeared  to  attend  strictly  to  his  own  affairs  which 
were  large;  and  even  Bob  Likkum,  who  disliked  him, 
failed  to  find  specific  reason  for  his  dislike  save  in 
Simons'  unconcealed  disposition  to  drive  the  closest  pos- 
sible bargains,  at  any  cost  and  at  all  seasons,  in  business. 
Brad  often  came  to  see  De,  not  directly,  but  upon  a 
pretense  of  visiting  Peter  Braddock,  her  father,  on  farm 
or  cattle  matters,  or  to  gossip  with  IMartha,  her  mother, 
when  Peter  was  in  the  field. 

The  rural  locality  occupied  by  these  people  had,  over 
a  lengthy  period  of  time,  been  scourged  by  upsparing 
and  malignant  lawlessness  which,  for  some  mysterious 
rrascn,  Vv'as  now  on  the  increase;  cattle  stealing  and 
various  depredations  being  of  more  frequent  and  com- 
mon occurrence.     Enlightened  detection  was  but  just 

45 


46  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

beginning  to  glimmer;  together  with  the  appearance  of 
the  first  ditching  machine,  the  reaper  and  the  mower. 

"Mother,"  Peter  would  sometimes  say,  "ye'd 
oughtn  't  to  let  De,  er  ye  'd  oughtn  't  yerself ,  go  out  alone 
in  the  kentry  so  much ;  send  ur  take  Esau  weth  ye.  Ye 
never  know  whut  mout  happen." 

And  Mother  Braddock  would  laugh  and  reply: 

' '  The  gal  an '  me  might  be  old  enough  by  now,  father, 
to  take  keer  uv  ourselves.  Drat  that  Esau  ! ' '  exclaimed 
mother,  her  tone  changing  to  one  of  good  natured  rail- 
lery; "he'd  be  'bout  'smuch  good  ez  a  suckin'  calf.  Ef 
anythin'  happened,  he'd  want  ter  come  hum  right  away 
an'  git  somep'n'  t'  eat,"  the  last  being  an  expression  of 
deep  disgust,  referring  to  an  abnormal  and  incurable 
physical  appetite  belonging  to  the  young  and  ingenuous 
farm  assistant  in  question. 

However,  so  far,  no  indications  had  occurred  that  the 
secret  purposes  of  the  outlaws  had,  in  any  way,  become 
involved  with  the  lives  or  other  affairs  of  the  Braddock 
household ;  and  the  sky  of  its  daily  routine  had  remained 
clear.  But  the  usual  cloud  no  bigger  than  a  man's  hand 
was  just  about  showing  in  the  domestic  horizon. 

"Mother,"  said  Peter,  one  day,  "I've  lost  two  head 
uv  them  there  blooded  cattle  down  in  the  medder." 

"Them  band  uv  thieves,"  exploded  Mrs.  Braddock. 

"Think  likely,"  said  the  old  man. 

De,  standing  by,  interposed  firmly : 

"It's  high  time  something  was  done  to  break  up  that 
organization  of  shame  and  disgrace  to  this  community. 
It  seems  to  be  growing  worse  instead  of  better.  It's 
an  outrage,  father,  on  law  and  decency." 

"They  be  afeerd  uv  'em,"  observed  Peter  Braddock. 

"They — who?"  inquired  his  daughter. 

"Why,  da 'ter,  ter  tell  the  truth,"  replied  the  old 
man,   perplexedly   scratching   his   head,    "everybody — 


BRAD  SIMONS  AND  DE  BRADDOCK.         47 

they  ain't  none  but  whut  hez,  ez  the  feller  sez,  a  hul- 
some  an'  superstishus  dread  uv  'em." 

"Are  you  that  way?"  asked  De,  with  a  show  of  grow- 
ing spirit. 

"Now,  see  here,  da'ter,"  rejoined  the  father,  "ye 
mustn't  be  too  hard  on  the  ol'  feller — that's  me,  yer 
daddie;  but,  I  tell  ye,  gal,  I've  seen  'smuch  uv  their 
doin  's,  I  hev ',  'at  I  don 't  know  ef  I  ain  't  'bout  'sbad  ez 
the  balance,  w'en  'tcomes  to  tacklin'  'em — them  thieves 
an'  cutthroats.  They's  some  kind  uv  a  sayin'  sfoin' 
aroun,'  that  the  gang's  led  by  someun' — don't  know 
who — 'at's  hed  some  trouble — th'  law's  done  'im  some 
dirt  —  onjestice  er  other  —  an'  they're  jes'  nach'ly 
a-gittin'  even  like.  Don't  know,"  concluded  Uncle 
Peter  shaking  his  head  sadly. 

"H-e-1-l-o,  P-e-t-e-r,"  called  a  voice  from  the  road. 

"There's  Brad — Brad  Simons;  'u'd  know  'is  voice 
anyw'eres,"  and,  with  this  observation,  Peter  hurried 
out  of  the  house. 

"What  does  he  want  with  father,  I  wonder,  mother," 
remarked  De  as  the  old  farmer  went  quickly  out  of  the 
room. 

"Dunno,  child,"  replied  Mrs.  Braddock  indulgently. 

"Hi,  Peter,"  said  Simons  accosting  Braddock,  as 
the  latter  came  from  the  house ;  ' '  understand  you  've  lost 
some  cattle  lately.    That  true  ? ' ' 

"That  be  about  right,  Brad,  I  have,"  returned  the 
farmer  walking  up  to  the  fence,  on  the  other  side  of 
which,  in  the  road,  Brad  Simons  sat  upon  a  large  bay 
horse.    "Wisht  I  know'd  where  they  wmz,  I  do." 

"How  many'd  you  lose?"  further  questioned  the 
friendly  disposed  horseman. 

"Two — only  two,  but  them's  enuff,"  rejoined  Peter 
Braddock  disconsolately.  "And  th'  way  that  'air  dang 
gang's  a-goin'  on,  in  this  here  kentry,  weth  other  things 


48  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

belonging  to  everybody,  it's  likely  to  be  lots  more,  'fore 
they  git  through.  They're  a  bad  lot,  Brad,  'n'  murder  's 
not  past  'em.    Fu'st  trouble  they've  giv'  me,  tho'." 

"And  the  last,  if  I  can  put  a  stop  to  it,"  replied 
Brad  sympatheticallj'',  and  A^th  a  peculiar  emphasis 
which  escaped  Uncle  Peter's  attention  at  the  time. 

Peter  Braddock  said  nothing.  He,  of  course,  had  no 
reason  for  \dsiting  the  man  before  him  vrith  the  faintest 
shadow  of  suspicion  or  distrust  concerning  the  general 
wrongdoing  under  discussion  and  prevalent  in  that 
vicinity.  In  fact,  whatever  was  Simons'  knowledge  of 
the  doings  of  the  freebooters,  the  cattle  trader  had  been 
ignorant  of  any  designs  upon  old  Braddock,  or  with  his 
own  interest  in  and  a  certain  respect  he  cherished  for 
De  he  had  refused  to  countenance  them.  Presently,  as 
Brad  continued  to  sit  upon  his  horse  in  silence  and  as 
though  lost  in  thought  gaze  off  in  the  distance,  Peter 
said  he  was  "very  much  obleeged  fur  his  good  will,  and 
would  Simons  git  do^^'n  an'  kum  in?" 

"No,  not  now;  but,  Peter,  that  matter  I  was  speak- 
ing to  you  about — about  De,  j^ou  know, — well,"  and  the 
man  showed  a  conscious  awkwardness  as  he  twisted  his 
horse 's  bridle  rein,  ' '  you  see, — well, ' '  clearing  his  throat, 
"I'd  like  to  find  out,  don't  you  know,  what  De,  herself, 
might  think  of " 

"Yer  marryin'  'er?"  quizzed  the  other,  with  a  little 
pang,  helping  the  backward  swain  out.  "Ask  'er,  Brad. 
Ye  kin  soon  tell,  then.  "We  sot  a  mighty  store  by  De,  we 
do,  mother  an'  me,  but  ef  ye  kin  make  the  gal  happy, 
we  mustn't  stan'  in  th'  way  of  a  free  ch'ice.  Ast  'er, 
Brad,  ast  'er. " 

"Thank  you,  Peter,  thank  you,"  replied  Simons, 
seemingly  relieved ;  "  I  will.  I  know  there 's  a  difference 
in  our  ages — quite  a  difference,  in  fact;  but  I  honestly 
do  not  see  how  that  should  stand  in  the  way.    I  am  rid- 


BRAD  SIMONS  AND  DE  BRADDOCK.         49 

ing  on  a  piece,  and  I'll  kindo'  look  in  as  I'm  coming 
back.    What  say?" 

"So  do,  Brad,  so  do,"  rejoined  the  old  man  with 
a  touch  of  kindly  heartiness  not  unmixed,  however,  with 
a  hint  of  sadness  in  his  voice ;  ' '  always  glad  ter  welcome 
ye,  ye  know  that. ' ' 

Brad  touched  up  his  horse  and  with  an  expression  of 
thanks  passed  on  up  the  road. 

In  their  domestic  council  chamber,  Uncle  Peter  and 
mother  had  decided  to  give  the  matter  of  Mr.  Simons' 
fate  entirely  into  the  hands  of  De  herself.  So  the  re- 
signed farmer  stood  and  watched  the  cattle  merchant 
ride  away. 

"]\Iaybe,  it's  best  fur  the  gal, — maybe  'tis, — but 
she's  our  da 'ter,"  and  now  there  were  real  tears  in  the 
old  father's  keen,  dark,  expressive  eyes  and  in  his  voice, 
too.  "He's  mighty  well  off,  though,"  and  the  hard- 
fisted  tiller  of  the  soil  made  an  effort  to  satisfy  his  rebel- 
lious heart  with  this  commonly  unfailing  recourse;  but 
he  found  it  unusually  difficult  to  bring  relief  to-day. 
"Maybe,"  he  muttered  wistfully,  struggling  to  recover 
his  self  composure, — "maybe,  it's  fur  the  best." 

Peter  Braddock  kept  what  had  passed  between  him- 
self and  Brad  Simons  in  the  road  that  day,  affecting  the 
imminence  and  seriousness  of  Brad's  views  regarding 
Peter's  child,  carefully  within  the  privacy  of  his  own 
breast ;  not  even  telling  ' '  mother ; ' '  and  purposely  avoid- 
ing any  mention  of  it  to  De  herself. 

He  went  into  the  house. 

"What'd  Brad  want,  paw?"  asked  Martha  Brad- 
dock. 

"Oh,  was  sorry  I'd  lost  them  cattle  and  said,  if  he 
could  do  anything  to  help  me  git  'em  er  stop  the  stealin', 
he  would."  Brad's  manner  had  intentionally  left  old 
Peter  under  the  impression  that  the  cattleman  would  be 


50  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

useful  not  only  in  stopping  further  thefts  but  in  recov- 
ering the  property  already  stolen. 

De,  in  all  innocence,  was  obliged  to  admit  that  this 
was  kind  of  Brad  whose  own  large  dealings  in  cattle 
might  enable  him  to  serve  them  most  effectively. 

If  Peter  Braddock  was  keeping  his  own  counsel,  so 
was  Brad  Simons. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE   COUNTRY  SCHOOLHOUSE. 


"You  are  the  new  teacher,  I  believe?"  said  De  Brad- 
dock  to  a  tastefully  dressed  and  pretty  young  woman 
with  a  suit  of  wonderful  gold  bronze  hair,  at  the  to^\^l  of 

T ,  one  day,  as  the  two  passed  out  of  the  postofiQce 

together. 

The  person  addressed  looked  inquiringly  at  her  ques- 
tioner. 

"I  am  De  Braddock,"  said  De  simply.  "I  under- 
stood they  had  a  new  teacher  in  our  neighborhood — our 
farm  lies  near  the  school." 

"Yes?"  replied  De's  companion  smilingly.  "I  am," 
she  went  on  freely,  for  she  had  been  pleasantly  impressed 
by  the  other's  frank  and  open  face,  "what  you  would 
call  a  teacher;  and,"  she  added,  with  a  little  laugh, 
' '  maybe,  '  new, '  in  more  senses  than  one.  I  am  teaching, 
for  the  first  time.    I  hope  I  '11  suit. ' ' 

"Oh,"  rejoined  De,  impulsively  liking  the  girl,  "I'm 
sure  you  will." 

"The  last  teacher,  I  believe,  was  rather  a  hard  task- 
master and  the  scholars  drove  him  off,  did  they  not?" 
queried  the  fresh  aspirant  to  the  instructor's  role. 

"They'll  like  you,  though,"  said  De. 

"I  have  not  been  here  long,"  continued  the  young 
teacher ;  ' '  and  I  am  very  glad  to  meet  people.    We  have 

51 


52  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

just  come  from  Washington — mother  and  I.    My  name 
is  Mona  Walker." 

Mona  Walker — had  the  shadowy  shapes  of  Jason 
Jump's  haunting  past  of  injustice,  in  the  person  of  the 
girl  whom  he  had  rescued  from  the  dangerous  moral 
sway  of  Swarth  Blazes,  fallen  thus  early  across  the  unex- 
plored path  of  De  Braddock's  life!  And,  wdth  the 
drifting  appearance  of  these  shapes,  there  came  an  echo 
as  from  some  lingering  and  sorrowful  melody  dying 
away  in  mournful  memories  of  other  days.  Would  the 
once  saddened  strains  of  times  gone  by  blend,  without 
discord,  with  the  more  cheerful  harmonies  of  the  present  ? 

Mona  Walker's  existence  had  been  one  of  quiet,  sim- 
ple, unassuming  devotion  to  her  mother — to  her  home 
ties — different,  in  this  respect,  from  no  average  in  the  vast 
body  of  humankind.  Were  it  not,  as  Lord  Byron  has  said, 
that  the  history  of  any  life,  however  obscure  and  com- 
monplace, may  if  properly  recounted  be  made  interest- 
ing, how  few  of  us  would  offer  matter  of  sufficient  im- 
portance or  concern  to  occupy  an  idle  moment.  IMona 
was  scarcely  out  of  her  teens;  but,  with  the  moving, 
ever  stirring,  ever  struggling  stream  of  humanity,  she 
had  to  work.  From  man,  woman  or  child,  is  the  load 
of  labor  and  conscious  or  unconscious  responsibility 
never  lifted.  We  can  but  try  to  lighten  the  burdens 
of  them  we  love !  Mona  Walker,  as  she  was  at  Washing- 
ton, was  still  the  one  companion  of  her  mother — widow- 
hood, the  fatherless  and  affection  inseparably  binding 
together  the  daughter  and  the  parent.  The  latter,  upon 
the  arrival  in  Indiana,  had  accepted  an  offer,  on  the  part 
of  Brad  Simons,  to  take  charge  of  his  housekeeping ;  and 
the  two — Mona  and  her  mother — lived  upon  Simons' 
farm.  The  widow  would  gladly  have  given  the  daughter 
independence  had  she  been  able.  She  was  not.  The  off- 
spring, as  did  the  parent,  contributed  her  portion  to  the 


THE  COUNTRY  SCHOOLHOUSE.  53 

common  support;  and,  following  an  arrangement  which 
Jason  Jump  had  furthered,  and  happily  freed  from  the 
menace  at  Washington,  entered  cheerfully  upon  the  dis- 
charge of  her  simple  duties  as  teacher  in  the  little  coun- 
try school  in  De  Braddock's  neighborhood. 

De  said  she  would  be  glad  to  make  Miss  "Walker 
acquainted  \nth  her  own  friends  and  those  surroundings 
mth  which  one  placed  in  the  position  of  the  new  in- 
structress would  have  to  become  familiar;  and  the  two 
at  once  entered  upon  a  footing  of  agreeable  and  neigh- 
borly friendship. 

Before  they  separated,  Mona  Walker's  new  friend 
remarked : 

"We  have,  at  our  house,  the  biggest  goose  of  a  fat 
farmboy — Esau  is  his  name.  He  is  such  a  big,  good  nat- 
ured  fellow,  that  you  can't  help  taking  an  interest  in 
him.  There 's  one  thing  about  him, ' '  said  De  in  explana- 
tion :  ' '  Where  everyone,  in  this  region,  seems  afraid  as 
death  of  the  outlaws — you  haven't  heard  of  them? 
they're  dreadful — w^here  everyone  seems  afraid  as  death 
of  them,  why,  Esau  does  not  appear  to  mind  them  any 
more  than  if  they  did  not  exist.  He's  very  ignorant, 
though,  and  I  should  like  for  him  to  study  with  you. ' ' 

"The  outlaws!  are  there  outlaws?"  queried  Mona 
Walker  anxiously. 

"Oh,  yes,"  responded  De  Braddock  easily,  display- 
ing one  of  her  owti  leading  characteristics — an  indiffer- 
ence to  fear.    ' '  Can  you  take  Esau  ? ' ' 

"I  will  do  the  best  for  him.  Miss  Braddock,  that  I 
can." 

"Oh,  thank  you,"  rejoined  De  gratefully. 

It  happened,  in  this  way,  that  Esau,  the  Braddock 
farmboy,  was  afforded  facilities  for  acquiring  an  edu- 
cation; and,  for  the  remnant  of  the  school  year,  during 


54  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

that  spring,  could  be  seen  drooping  in  fat  and  laborious 
effort  over  a  desk  in  the  country  schoolroom. 

The  school  year  had  not  yet  expired,  although  the 
hot  weather  had  set  in,  and  school,  to  be  sure,  was  a  blaz- 
ing and  monstrous  abuse  to  any  youngster  who,  desk- 
bound, could  smell  the  woods  and  dream  of  diving  holes, 
yet  could  see,  nor  feel,  neither.     Horrible ! 

A  little  country  frame  schoolhouse,  by  the  roadside, 
with  a  -^vdde  piece  of  unfenced,  hazel-bush-sprinkled 
door-plot  between  the  front  door  and  the  highway;  the 
children,  from  the  adjacent  farms,  with  slates  and  bocks — 
some  earnest  and  brisk,  in  the  cooler,  early  morning, 
others  lagging  lazily  with  tardy  step,  or  scurrying  and 
rouiping  blithely  and  merrily  through  the  fields,  or 
bursting  with  shouts  out  of  nearby  woods;  the  teacher, 
in  her  unassuming  dress,  quietly  entering  the  door  of  the 
modest  and  unpretentious  house  of  learning — these  were 
some  of  the  varied  objects  and  occurrences,  which,  some- 
time after  De  and  ]\Iona  met  in  T ,  caused  a  stocky 

built,  powerful,  black-bearded  man  to  stop  and  speak 
gruffly  to  a  girl  about  ten  years  of  age,  who  stood  gazing 
with  childish  interest  at  the  sports  of  the  other  children, 

' '  I  say,  sis,  where 's  yer  teacher  ? ' '  asked  the  man. 

The  child,  as  children  will,  stood  spellbound  by 
something  in  the  other's  manner  hard  to  define,  but 
which  conveyed  a  species  of  creeping  terror  with  it — a 
subtle  and  unaccountable  threat  of  lurking  danger.  Her 
gruff  questioner  watched  the  child's  speechless  counte- 
nance until  evil  patience  became  exhausted,  and  made  a 
menacing  gesture  as  if  to  force  his  unwilling  subject  to 
answer  him.  The  child  shrank  away  in  fear,  and  a  fat 
boy  of  seventeen,  who  sat  on  a  stump  a  little  waj"-  off 
from  v/here  the  child  and  man  were  standing,  called  out, 

"You  leave  her  alone." 

The  fellow,  wearing  a  beard,  turned  in  tlie  direction 


THE  COUNTRY  SCIIOOLIIOUSE.  55 

of  the  voice,  and,  perceiving  the  lad  on  the  stump,  forced 
a  deep  scowl  to  his  features. 

' '  Sonny,  ye  know  whut  the  ol '  hen  said  to  the  pullet, 
when  the  little  chicken  went  out  where  the  fox  wuz?" 
asked  the  man  smoothly  and  darkly. 

"No,"  said  the  boy  doggedly. 

"  'Ye 're  crazy  ez  a  loon,'  that's  w'at  she  said.  Now, 
miss,"  to  the  little  girl,  "I  ain't  a-goin'  to  hev'  people, 
in  these  here  parts,  a-refusin'  what  I  wants."  He  caught 
and  shook  the  child,  though  not  severely.  The  little  girl 
began  to  whimper.  The  fat  boy  rolled  off  the  stump, 
onto  his  feet.  "Where,"  the  examiner  again  asked  of 
the  small  girl,  "is  yer  teacher?" 

The  fat  youngster,  in  clumsy  haste,  w^addled  over  to 
the  rear  of  the  persecutor  of  his  little  companion-pupil. 

' '  Leave  'er  be, ' '  said  the  boy. 

"Oh,  you,  ag'in,"  retorted  the  man  wheeling  quickly 
on  his  opponent.  "Thought  I  told  ye — git  out,"  kick- 
ing suddenly  at  the  fat  boy. 

The  latter  lumberingly  dodged  and  escaped  infliction 
of  the  intended  punishment.  His  assailant  let  loose  of 
the  little  girl  and  started  for  the  fat  boy. 

"Esau,"  piped  the  child,  " he— he '11— kill  us— he— 
he'll  kill  ye — o-o-o-h! — "  and,  in  real  fright  and  aroused 
efforts  at  safety,  the  first  object  of  the  displeasure  of  the 
black-bearded  man  set  up  a  wdld  and  wailing  shriek  of 
distress  and  apprehension. 

The  man  roughly  caught  Esau  by  the  collar  and 
shook  him  vigorously  and  noticeably  with  far  more  sever- 
ity than  that  employed  on  the  other  sex. 

"You  quit  that,"  gasped  the  fat  boy. 

At  this  instant  the  teacher  appeared  at  the  door  of 
the  schoolhouse,  hurriedly  brought  hither  by  the  pupil's 
cry  of  alarm  for  herself  and  concern  for  her  young 
champion,  Esau. 


56  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"Wliat  is  it,  Fanny?"  called  the  teacher  when, 
catching  sight  of  the  ruffian  shaking  her  other  charge, 
she  ran  swiftly  out  and  up  to  the  man,  grasping  him 
firmly  by  the  arm, 

"Stop  that,  this  instant.  What  do  you  mean?"  she 
•demanded  indignantly. 

The  stranger  looked  abashed  as  he  dropped  his  hold 
on  Esau  and  turned  to  the  young  woman. 

"I  meant  no  harm,  mum — jes'  stirrin'  'em  up  a  bit 
— that 'sail." 

"I  allow  no  one  to  abuse  my  pupils,  sir;  do  not  ever 
do  so  again,"  returned  the  indignant  young  woman  with 
flashing  eyes  and  heaving  breast.  "Now  what  do  you 
want  here  ?    Say  it  and  begone. ' ' 

His  manner  to  this  woman  was  all  gentleness. 

"Northin' — northin',  miss,"  replied  the  other  propi- 
tiatingly.  "Jes' — well,  I  jes'  stopped  to — well, — "  he 
removed  his  hat;  rubbed  his  forehead;  replaced  his  hat; 
looked  long  and  searchingly  into  the  face  of  the  teacher 
Mona  Walker,  and  abruptly  turned  and  left  her,  moving 
heavily  though  rapidly  down  the  road. 

"Now,  children,  come  into  school,"  said  Mona. 

Sobbing  and  screwing  her  knuckles  into  her  eyes,  the 
small  girl  followed  by  the  fat  boy  entered  the  school- 
house  in  the  wake  of  her  guardian. 

The  man  with  the  black  beard  walked  on  in  silence 
for  some  time.  At  length  he  muttered  as  he  gazed  about 
upon  the  surrounding  woods : 

"She  didn't  know  me.  Didn't  want  her  to — just 
■wanted  to  see  if  she  would ;  but  it  hurts,  anyway.  If  site 
don't  know  me,  the  rest  Avon't — no,  the  rest  will  not." 

He  slouched  on  and,  arriving  at  a  point  in  the  high- 
road at  a  safe  distance  from  the  place  of  liis  recent  ex- 
periences at  the  sehoolhouse,  he  glanced  around  cau- 
tiously and  whistled  softly.     From  among  the  trees  lin- 


THE  COUNTRY  SCHOOLIIOUSE.  57 

ing  the  roadside  issued,  as  in  response  to  a  signal,  a  sec- 
ond man  of  as  forbidding  an  appearance  as  the  first. 

'•"Where  be  t'  others?"  demanded  the  man  who  had 
whistled. 

"Layin'  back  in  th'  w^oods,"  returned  the  other. 

"Skin  back — 111  foller,"  rejoined  his  companion 
shortly. 

The  last  comer  turned  and  disappeared  in  the  thick 
growth  of  forest ;  and  the  man  left  behind  paused  a  mo- 
ment in  the  roadway,  looking  back  in  the  direction 
whence  he  had  come,  wdtli  a  searching  and  even  longing 
gaze.  The  next  instant  he  wheeled  swiftly  and  entered 
the  wood  whither  his  late  companion  had  gone. 

He  tore  his  way  through  the  dry,  rotten  and  tangled 
undergrowth,  pushing  aside  obstructing  branches  of 
bushes  and  trees,  until,  when  a  hundred  yards  or  more 
had  been  thus  traversed,  he  came  upon  a  rocky  glen. 
Gathered  here,  in  a  hollow  amidst  huge  boulders  and  the 
numerous  objects  of  rough,  broken  forest  existence,  was 
a  group  of  men — five  or  six — all  bearing  the  same  char- 
acteristics of  ruffianly  aspect  which  marked  him  of  the 
black  beard  and  the  man  who  had  recently  met  him  in 
the  road. 

The  newcomer,  giving  but  a  slight  look  of  seeming 
scrutiny  at  the  knot  of  ill  favored  figures  assembled  in 
his  view,  appeared  to  detach  himself  from  any  further 
interest  in  this  portion  of  his  surroundings  and,  with 
something  like  a  sigh,  seated  himself  upon  the  trunk  of 
a  decayed  tree  which  had  fallen,  in  its  day,  before  the 
force  and  fury  of  the  storm.  Here  he  remained,  moody 
and  silent.  The  member  of  the  group,  who  had  just  pre- 
ceded the  sitting  figure  hither,  glanced  significantly 
from  the  oblivious  man  to  the  others  and,  in  low  tones, 
observed : 


58  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"Ye  know  he's  that  way,  at  times.  Git  along. 
There 's  plenty  to  do, ' '  and  waved  them  from  the  spot. 

Silently  and  in  seeming  understanding  of  their 
duties,  one  after  another  they  passed  away  among  the 
rocks  and  trees,  and  left  their  late  director  alone  \dth 
his  strange  companion  who,  apparently  unconscious  of 
all  about  him  and  wrapped  in  gloomy  and  solitary  med- 
itation, still  sat  on  the  rotten  bole  of  the  old  tree. 

"I  sent  th'  letter  ter  White,"  said  the  other,  ap- 
proaching the  lonely  figure  on  the  tree  trunk. 

"Good,"  returned  the  man  addressed,  without  look- 
ing at  his  companion.  "Foller  the  fellers.  I'll  stay 
here  fur  a  spell.    Meet  me  down  th '  road  d  'reckly. ' ' 

"Is  that  all  ye'd  hev'?"  queried  the  other  man 
doubtfully. 

"All  jes'  now.  Hen,"  replied  his  companion,  in  the 
same  manner  of  complete  and  somber  abstraction  that 
had  possessed  him  since  the  affair  at  the  schoolhouse. 

With  every  appearance  of  the  deepest  and  most  per- 
plexed reluctance  and  scanning  the  form  upon  the  old 
tree  in  a  baffled  way,  the  dismissed  seeker  for  informa- 
tion slowly  departed. 

"lie's  a  good  un',  an'  all  thet,"  he  muttered  as  he 
withdrevv^  "but  I'd  like  to  know  more  about  him.  Who 
is  he?" 

And  the  ruminating  man  in  the  wood,  left  behind  to 
his  solitude  upon  the  tempest  blasted  tree,  gave  no  an- 
swer to  this  question;  but  sat  and  watched  the  clouds 
sailing  overhead  above  the  open  space  of  the  forest ;  and 
ground  his  teeth;  and  cried  out  and  writhed  as  one,  in 
the  trial  of  soul  and  spirit,  cries  out  to  the  still  and  unre- 
sponsive void  of  the  universe. 

The  shadows — the  phantoms — were  still  abroad! 

"Now,  see  here.  Miss  Mona,  ye  knows  I'm  not  very 


THE  COUNTRY  SCIIOOLIIOUSE.  o9 

foright,"  said  Esau  at  the  school;  and  Mona  was  inter- 
rupted in  an  attempt  to  convey  to  the  sluggish  intellect 
of  the  fat  country  boy  a  measure  of  soothing  falsehood 
affecting  the  possession,  on  the  part  of  De  Braddock's 
favorite,  of  brilliant  talents,  by  the  entrance  of  De  her- 
self. 

"Esau,  what  is  that  word?"  asked  Miss  Walker 
when  she  had  greeted  her  visitor  cordially — De,  stand- 
ing near  the  two,  watching  with  some  anxiety  the  hoped- 
for  manifestation,  by  her  charge,  of  ordinary  human  in- 
telligence. 

"Dunno,"  said  Esau. 

' '  You  don 't  know !  Whj^  Esau, ' '  urged  Tilona,  ' '  look 
at  it."  The  farmboy  stood  crowded  by  the  side  of  his 
teacher  with  his  head  down  close  to  the  book  which,  sit- 
ting at  her  desk  overlooking  the  schoolroom  full  of 
scholars,  Miss  Walker  held  for  Esau's  inspection.  "See 
— now,  I  spell  it — d-r-i-v-e, — can  you  not  tell?  Why, 
what  does  Mr.  Braddock  do  when  he  goes  to  town  with 
you  and  the  family,  in  the  big  wagon  ? ' ' 

"Raises  thunder  when  the  wimmen  folks  ain't  ready 
in  time, ' '  promptly  responded  Esau. 

With  a  look  of  shocked  amazement  ]\Iiss  Walker 
turned  apologetically  to  De,  when  they  both  broke  out 
laughing,  the  school,  in  various  stages  of  hilarious  treble, 
gleefully  following  suit. 

"There,  there,  Esau,"  said  the  teacher  kindly,  while 
covering  De's  impulse  of  awkward  embarrassment  as 
best  she  could,  "go  to  your  place  and  study.     Children, 

please  keep  order.    Now,  Miss  Braddock " 

Both  young  women,  at  this  moment,  glanced  sim- 
ultaneously out  of  the  window  at  sound  of  hoofbeats, 
in  the  road,  breaking  in  unexpectedly  upon  jMona's  in- 
tended remark. 

"Why,"  exclaimed  De,  a  blush,  which  did  not  escape 


60  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

Mona's  feminine  observation,  mantling  her  cheek, 
"there's  William  White!" 

"There  are  two,"  said  Mona  with  a  curious  interest. 

"Mr.  White  is  the  younger,  with  light  hair,"  re- 
marked De,  a  little  reserved.     "The  other " 

' '  Yes, ' '  interposed  the  young  teacher, — ' '  the  other  ? '  * 

"Oh,"  replied  Mona's  companion,  "that  is  Parson 
Woods." 

"Oh,"  said  Mona. 

The  two  horsemen,  dismounting,  entered  the  school- 
room. 

"The  new  teacher,"  said  the  parson  with  the  interest 
of  a  public  responsibility  in  his  manner,  when  De  had 
introduced  William  White  and  the  pastor  to  Mona 
Walker.  "Glad  to  meet  you.  Stopped  to  see  how  you 
would  be  coming  on  in  your  new  position." 

]\Iona,  with  the  feeling  of  curious  and  strange  inter- 
est that  had  possessed  her  on  her  first  glimpse,  through 
the  window,  of  the  approaching  horsemen,  found  her- 
self engaged  in  animated  and  entertaining  conversation 
with  the  preacher,  a  man  of  dark  hair  and  eyes  and 
smoothly  shaven  face.  His  age  might  have  been  about 
thirty-nine. 

De  and  William  left  the  schoolroom,  and  lingered  in 
the  open  space  without. 

"De,"  said  the  man,  "they  say,  since  Brad  Simons 
has  returned  from  Washington,  that — that — well,  that 
you're — that  he " 

"William,  don't  be  silly.    That,  what?" 

"They  say — "  stammered  White  apparently  much 
embarrassed,  and  breaking  off  disconnectedly — "oh,  if 
I  was  anything  but  a  beggar  of  a  w-riter ! ' ' 

"Well?" 

"May  I  come  over,  this  evening?"  concluded  the  dif- 
fident wooer  lamely  and  ingloriously. 


THE  COUNTRY  SCIIOOLHOUSE.  61 

De  bit  her  lips,  partly  in  disappointment,  partly  in 
pained  amusement. 

"Yes,  William, — you're  always  welcome." 

"Thank  you,"  said  William  humbly. 

The  two  men  presently  withdrew ;  the  school  hummed 
and  buzzed  at  intervals  as  schools  do,  and  was  quickly 
quieted  by  the  patient  teacher  as  schools  are,  only  to 
hum  and  buzz  again;  nature,  without,  called,  in  faint, 
far  off  cadences,  from  cool,  green  forest  glades;  the 
man,  seated  upon  the  bolt  riven  tree  in  the  wood,  con- 
tinued to  groan  in  the  misery  of  his  solitude,  and  the 
eld  world  with  its  little  beginnings  making  great  end- 
ings went  rolling  on. 

When  William  White,  a  talented  character  with  a 
literary  bent  combined  with  a  singular  love  of  human- 
ity, arrived  at  his  dwelling  place  he  was  both  puzzled 
and  surprised  as  well  as  uncomfortably  stirred  to  find 
awaiting  him  a  wholly  incomprehensible  communication, 
which  imperatively  requested  him  to  meet  the  unknown 
writer,  that  night,  at  a  point  knowTi  as  "Lone  Pine,"  in 
the  hills.  "We  have  something  to  tell  you  'bout  De 
Braddock,"  the  writer  said. 

The  unsigned  note,  to  one  who  had  so  recently  shown 
the  unmistakable  evidence  of  a  deep  and  sentimental  in- 
terest in  Peter  Braddock 's  daughter,  was  a  matter  of  uu; 
avoidable  and  strange  anxiety  and  concern.  William 
White  had  no  enemies — at  least,  none  that  he  then  knew 
of — and  he  at  once  put  aside  all  thought  that  this  unac- 
countable and  anonymous  invitation  could  mean  per- 
sonal treachery  to  himself.  Even  were  it  so,  De  Brad- 
dock's  possible  welfare,  to  him,  possessed  far  too  deep 
an  interest  to  admit  of  a  moment's  hesitation. 

"I  must  go,"  mused  White  as  he  read  the  entire 
missive  a  second  time.  "And  it  says,"  he  soliloquized 
gravely,  "that  I  must  go  alone — and  alone  it  shall  be." 


62  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

It  was  now  close  on  to  evening.  Thinking,  in  spite 
of  his  confidence,  that  there  might  be  possible  need  of 
a  weapon.  White  slipped  a  revolver  into  his  pocket; 
and  completed  further  preparations  for  the  coming  ad- 
venture. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

' '  THE  WAY  OF  THE  WORLD. ' ' 

"The  way  of  the  world — "  way  of  the  world; 
Anywhere,  anyhow,  into  it  whirled  ! 

Elsewhere  had  started  that  sullen  and  reactionary 
current  of  lawless  social  reprisal,  the  first  seed  and  vital 
germ  of  all  dreadful  and  unhappy  revolution  in  nature. 
They  were  two  low  broAved,  evil  visaged  men  who  were 
talking  with  suspiciously  dark  and  sinister  earnestness, 
in  the  open  country  highway.  One,  black-bearded  and 
menacing,  had  perched  himself  upon  the  top  of  a  rail 
fence;  the  other  stood,  brooding  and  silent,  on  the 
ground  nearby.  The  one  on  the  fence  had  come  out  of 
his  abstraction  in  the  forest,  where  we  left  him ;  the 
man  standing  near  still  wore  the  appearance  of  discon- 
tented perplexity  worn,  by  him,  when  the  last  to  leave 
the  leader  in  the  wood. 

' '  But  I  tell  ye, ' '  said  the  man  on  the  ground,  gloom- 
ily continuing  their  discussion  in  the  grateful  shade  of 
an  immense  oak  in  their  rear — for  the  sun  was  hot,  "ye 
cain't  tell  nothin'  'bout  it.  Th'  woman's  playin'  some 
game.  I  tell  ye,  I  don't  believe  in  her  tantrums,  nohow. 
Fact.  She  lets  on  to  be  sick,  this  here  a- way,  an'  then — 
vrhish!"  exclaimed  the  speaker,  expressively  throwing 
out  his  hands,  "she's  up  an'  off  like  a  scairt  colt.  Yo' 
never  can  tell,  I  tell  ye.    She  ain't  no  more  sicker 'n  you 


63 


64  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

er  me.  Ye  say  she  wants  ye  to  kidnap  Billy  White,  an' 
bring  'im  to  the  cave  ? ' ' 

"Yes.  And  supposin'  she  is  puttin'  on — supposin' 
she  is — she's  be'n  useful  to  us,  hain't  she — and  faithful, 
an'  all  that,  hain't  she?  Yo'  cain't  tell  nothin'  about 
'er,  I'll  agree;  but  she's  be'n  durn  good  to  the  gang, 
jus'  the  same,"  persisted  the  robber  leader  on  the  fence. 
*'Uh  course,  too,  I  looks  at  the  matter  ez  ye  do,  yerself, 
Hen :  them  thar '  seemin '  crazy  people 's  curious  kind  uv 
cattle,  an'  she's  a  double  dose  of  curious,  anyway — 
crazy  er  sane.  And  then,  again,  sez  I,  what  if  she  is 
puttin '  on  ?  Huh !  She  can 't  get  the  best  of  us. ' '  This 
last  was  said  with  all  the  affected  confidence  of  veteran 
and  successful  crime,  for  these  men  were  among  the 
worst  and  most  vicious  criminals  southern  Indiana  was 
ever  afflicted  with.  "I  kin  take  keer  uv  mese'f,  thank 
ye.  No,  ef  we  kin  obleege  the  ol '  critter,  let 's  do  it.  Git 
the  feller  White,  'at  she  wants,  er  says  she  wants,  fer 
to  see  him  so  much,  an'  take  'im  to  the  mother.  She — 
I  tell  yo'.  Hen,"  said  the  speaker,  abruptly  breaking  o^f 
in  his  sentence  and  displaying  part  of  a  real  motive 
moving  him  to  the  contemplated  action,  "we'd  better 
do  this  thing  she  wants;  fur  the  old  woman,  whether 
she 's  weak  in  her  upper  story  ur  not,  knows  some  things 
'at  you  an'  me,  I  think,  could  make  a  heep  out  of.  Did 
yer  hear  her  say  she  wuz  fate?"  jestingly  added  the 
man. 

' '  Yes, ' '  replied  the  other,  ' '  I  did ;  and  ye  know  what 
she  said  ? ' ' 

"Naw;  let's  hear,"  rejoined  his  associate,  one  hand 
ruffling  his  heavy  black  beard  while  the  other  extracted 
a  watch  from  his  pocket  as  he  glanced  at  the  time. 

"I  ast  'er  why  she  avuz  fate.  She  said  bec'uz'  half 
the  time  she  didn't  have  no  sense." 

"Haw!   haw!   haw!"  burst  out   the   other — "don't 


"THE  WAY  OF  THE  WORLD."  65 

sound  very  crazy,  does  it? — Not'standin*,  be  she  sick  er 
well,  we  gotter  git  Billy  White  inter  thet  cave,"  and, 
thus  asserting  his  authority,  the  man  parted  his  huge, 
black  mustache,  spat  reflectively  into  the  road  from  the 
top  rail  of  the  stake-and-rider  fence  and  idly  kicked  the 
rail  beneath  with  the  back  of  his  heel.  His  companion, 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  slouched  in  the  midst  of 
the  ironweeds  which  filled  up  the  angles  in  the  fence, 
and  said  nothing. 

The  landscape  consisted  of  rich  farmland  and  hilly 
country.  The  two  plotters,  in  their  coarse  attire,  made 
natural  figures  for  the  varied  background,  with  its 
stretches  of  woodland  and  a  river  shining  here  and  there 
among  the  trees  and  in  the  broken  rising  ground.  Not 
far  off,  to  the  left  of  the  outlaws  and  in  their  rear,  were 
a  farmhouse  and  outhouses ;  and,  behind  the  buildings, 
was  a  field  of  ripening  wheat.  The  summer  weather 
now  set  in  was  dry,  hot  and  dusty;  and  it  was  clearly 
approaching  a  season  of  either  severe  drought  or  over- 
whelming flood. 

The  man  on  the  fence  spoke  abruptly,  accompanying 
his  words  with  an  expressive  oath.  He  had  been  sunk 
in  a  characteristic  fit  of  abstraction,  and  his  manner 
changed  strikingly  as  he  came  out  of  it. 

"Fate!"  he  ejaculated  in  bitter  irony.  "It's  the 
way  of  the  world  to  git  what  ye  kin,  an'  any  way  ye 
kin,"  he  added,  with  a  deep  and  peculiar  emphasis,  "an' 
I  'm  go  'n '  to  git  it. ' ' 

"Ye  ain't  a-goin'  to  do  White  no  harm,  be  ye?"  ques- 
tioned the  man  in  the  ironweeds,  with  what  seemed  an 
unexpected  and  unusual  show  of  solicitude. 

"Don't  know;  ef  he  acts  right,  'ull  leave  'ini  'lone." 
"I  wouldn't  hurt  'im  none,"  urged  the  other,  still 
apparently  and  curiously  prompted  by  a  strange  weak- 
ness in  the  face  of  their  proposed  act  of  abduction. 


66  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"See  here,  Hen,"  growled  the  ruflfian  truculently 
from  the  top  of  the  fence,  "ye  seem  kindo'  tender 
hearted.  What  ails  ye?  Ye  don't  play  no  tricks  \^ith 
us,  my  man,  like  we  had  to  do  up  Thrash  Thatcher  fer 
— hey  ? "  he  added  ominously. 

"I  tell  ye.  Hank,"  returned  Hen  breaking  the  top 
of  an  iron  weed  with  one  hand,  while  the  other  remained 
in  his  pocket,  "I  ain't  feelin'  jes'  right  lately  'bout  all 
this  here  cave  biz'ness,  don't  ye  know.     Don't  know 

w^hat  ails  me,  but  I  ain't,  an' "  he  broke  off  uneasily 

for  a  moment;  then  proceeded:  "Like  ez  not  we'll  all 
git  d^o^\^lded  in  there  some  day  fer  our  pains.  Hank, 
it's  darn  bad  biz'ness,  anyhow — this  breakin'  the  law." 

"One  'u'd  think,"  sneered  Hank,  "'at  yer'd  be'n 
spoonin'  'round  weth  some  darn  sky  pilot.  What's  th' 
matter  uv  yer,  anyhow  ?  Air  ye  goin '  to  show  the  white 
feather?"  queried  the  outlaw,  suspicion  taking  further 
hold  on  him  as  he  dwelt  on  these  signs  in  his  companion 
of  weakening  in  their  criminal  faith.  "Dang  my  but- 
tons! Hen,  ef  I  thought  yo'  wuz,  I'd  pepper  and  salt 
ye,  myself,  I  would,"  and  the  outlaw's  hand,  as  he 
spoke,  sought  the  sinister  locality  of  his  hip  pocket. 

"Well,  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  show  no  Avhite  feather,  an' 
ye  know  that,"  slowly  rejoined  the  other.  "Ye  know 
it  better  than  anyone,"  he  continued,  lifting  his  eyes 
and  giving  the  man  on  the  fence  a  long  and  piercing 
look.  "There  ain't  any  more  loyal  man  an'  me,  Black 
Hank,  an'  ye  know  it.  Ye  oughtn't  to  talk  to  me  the 
way  ye  done.  'Tain't  right,"  and  Hen,  with  real  sor- 
row and  grief  in  his  tone  and  manner,  withdrew  his 
hand  from  his  trousers  pocket  and  waved  it  in  general 
expostulation  at  the  landscape.  "Think  uv  it,"  cried 
the  injured  man  addressing  a  neighboring  meadovv-. 
Me!  what?  hell,  I  wouldn't  'a'  said  it  of  you,"  turning 


"THE  WAY  OF  THE  WORLD."  67 

back  to  Hank,  who  sat  gazing  intently  and  apparently 
remorsefully  at  the  object  of  his  recent  suspicion. 

"Durn  it,  I'm  sorry — yes,  I  am — 'at  I  said  it.  Hen. 
But  what  the  mischief's  the  matter  with  you?  I  never 
seen  you  this  a-way  before?" 

"Don't  know,"  returned  Hen;  "wisht  I  did.  Bot- 
tom's go'n'  to  drop  out,  reckon.  No  use  askin',  Hank — 
I  couldn't  tell  ye,  myself.  They'll  get  us,  though,"  re- 
joined the  man,  apparently  operated  on  by  some  power- 
ful presentiment  of  coming  misfortune. 

"Get  us!  They — who?"  cried  the  leader,  in  exas- 
peration. 

"The  Law,"  said  the  other  moodily,  with  his  eyes 
upon  the  ground  at  his  feet. 

Again  the  chief's  eyes  emitted  the  threatening  light 
of  suspicion. 

"Lookee  here.  Hen,  you've  been  one  of  the  best  of 
us.  Ain't  no  doubt  about  that,"  said  the  outlaw  chief- 
tain with  a  motion  of  his  hand  to  obviate  the  necessity 
of  further  comment  of  like  nature;  "I  know  that,  all 
right,  but  ye  must  get  out  of  this  here  state  of  col-lapse 
you  're  in — it  won 't  do.     'Tain 't  healthy. ' ' 

"I  will.  Hank,  I  will,"  and  the  brooding  man  gave 
himself  a  shake ;  withdrew  his  hands  from  his  pockets ; 
a  far  away  look  from  the  distant  hills,  whence  it  had 
wandered,  and  began  to  whistle.  He  then  agreeably  an- 
nounced himself  as  ready  for  the  forcible  and  speedy 
conveying  of  one  William  White  to  a  certain  spot,  there 
to  meet  the  mysterious  woman  whose  strange  and  eccen- 
tric conduct  afforded,  with  wild  and  thrilling  effect,  so 
much  speculation  in  that  early,  rural  neighborhood — 
a  locality  deeply  influenced  by  superstition  and  ignor- 
ance and  of  which  so  much  is  there  told  in  fearsomeness 
and  awe,  while  here  in  tenderness  and  respect. 

"Be  keerful,"  cautioned  Black  Hank  in  a  low  tone 


68  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

of  voice,  as  his  fellow  outlaw  started  to  speak;  "here's 
the  new  feller  we  took  in  to  try,  yisterday. " 

Except  for  an  air  of  engaging  independence  which 
sat  with  an  easy  grace  upon  him  and  became  him  very 
well,  the  man  who  now  put  in  an  appearance  was  to  all 
seeming  but  an  ordinary  tramp.  He  had  approached 
silently  and,  while  the  discouraged  miscreant  was  occu- 
pied with  his  own  forebodings,  had  appeared  in  their 
midst. 

"Pardner,"  said  the  outlaw  leader  addressing  the 
newcomer  with  a  bland  air,  "I  understand  ye  to  say 
ye 're  on  yer  uppers — bu'sted?" 

"That's  about  the  cut  uv  my  jib,  mates,"  replied 
the  late  arrival  as  he  came  to  a  halt  with  a  rolling  mo- 
tion which,  together  with  his  speech,  was  strongly  sug- 
gestive of  the  seafaring  profession.  With  an  easy  ges- 
ture of  the  hand  he  pushed  back  his  hat,  unconsciously 
displaying,  at  the  same  time,  a  ragged  and  striking  scar 
above  the  eyebrows. 

"I  tell  yo',  yesterday,  we  mouglit  give  ye  a  job,  ef 
ever  ye 're  reliable." 

"I  kin  try,"  said  the  tramp  simply. 

"Jes'  meet  us  here  this  evenin',"  said  Black  Hank. 
"Er  wait;  jes'  come  over  there,"  supplemented  the  out- 
law pointing  to  where,  in  the  distance,  there  appeared 
a  towering  hill  beginning  a  far  rougher  country  than 
that  in  which  they  then  stood,  "We'll  meet  ye  there, 
ez,"  subjoined  the  bandit,  "the  feller — th'  stuff,"  he 
hastily  added,  correcting  himself  in  time,  "we  got  to 
carry  '11  be  over  at  that  p  'int. ' ' 

"But,  Hank, — "  remonstrated  his  fellow  evildoer, 
when  the  tramp  had  passed  on  up  the  road. 

"I  know,  I  know,"  the  outlaw  chieftain  hastened  to 
reassure  his  uneasy  companion.    "  I  '11  make  sure  of  him 


"THE  WAY  OF  THE  WORLD."  69 

fu'st.     We're  short  handed,  ye  know,    sence    Thrash 
Thatcher  got  settled  fur  peachin'  on  the  gang." 

And  they  both  turned  and  gazed  after  the  retreat- 
ing figure  that  sauntered  out  of  sight  around  a  curve 
in  the  road,  and  left  Hen  with  puckered  brow,  and  Black 
Hank  betrayed  by  the  false  security  of  crime  in  a  sec- 
tion noted  for  the  success  with  which  crime  had  long 
flourished. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"good  things  of  day  begin  to  droop  and  drowse, 

AND  night's  black  AGENTS  TO  THEIR  PREY  DO  ROUSE." 

— Shakespeare. 

In  the  State  of  Indiana,  there  is  a  group  of  caverns 
which,  in  their  unexplored  mystery,  charm  and  delight 
the  imagination.  They  fill  the  region  with  legend  and 
mystical  lore.  There  has  long  been  a  habit  of  ascribing 
the  most  wonderful  things  to  this  enchanting  region. 
"Wandering  spirits  are  supposed  at  night  to  pay  fleeting 
visits  to  "the  glimpses  of  the  moon"  shining  above  the 
slumbering  world,  but  to  return  at  the  first  flush  of 
dawn  to  the  unkno-\vn  regions  of  the  world  below.  Boys, 
reveling  in  their  swimming  sports,  lend  to  their  diving 
holes  bottomless  depths  which  they  fancy  mean  nothing 
else  than  occasion  for  youthful  daring  and  adventure — 
sinking  and  floating  above  those  fearsom.e  and  undelved 
channels  which  are  believed  to  honeycomb,  in  mysterious, 
subterranean  attraction  and  interest,  the  soundless 
realms  of  the  undersphere.  It  is  not  a  far  cry,  in  simple 
credulous  minds,  to  fairy  tales,  weird  and  fascinating 
stories  of  hobgoblins  and  the  ravishing  adventures  of 
elves,  brownies  and  pixie  children.  On  moonlight 
nights,  the  little  mound  people  are  surely  believed  to 
come  forth  and  play  upon  the  green ;  and  the  very  earth 
and  air  teem  with  the  most  refreshing  and  alluring  pos- 
sibilities of  a  life  other  than  one  of  daily  toil,  hardship 
and  strife. 


70 


"GOOD  THINGS  OF  DAY,  ETC."  71 

The  old  dame  seated  by  her  fireside  of  a  cold  Annter 
night, — when  the  falling  snow  without  drops  a  fleecy 
veil  whitening  hill  and  woodland,  field  and  river,  and 
the  icicles  form  to  sparkle  in  the  splendor  of  the  mor- 
row's sun, — loves  to  huddle  her  grandchildren  about  her 
and  croon  the  tales  of  magic  that  belong  to  an  atmos- 
phere of  dreams  and  enchantment. 

flighty  rocks  in  the  hills  here  spring  from  the 
ground  like  titan,  invincible  and  jagged  buttresses  of 
primal  earth.  Vegetation,  growing  in  the  wild  and  soli- 
tary recesses  of  the  great  sharp  spurs,  streaks  the  faces 
of  the  stony  formations  with  disordered  marking^ — 
green,  matted,  withered  underbrush  and  yellow  decay. 
Crowning  the  towering  heights  of  these  masses  of  earth 
and  stone  are  beech,  fir,  oak  and  hickory,  which  wave 
primeval  branches  to  eternal  space.  Here  there  is  a 
river  lost ;  and  afar  the  mystic  hill,  where  dwells  in  hid- 
den silence  the  mysterious  stream  whose  romance  has 
helped  people  this  realm  with  supernatural  imaginings, 
rears  itself  as  watchman  of  the  land. 

In  one  of  the  caves  of  this  region,  at  a  certain  period 
in  the  history  of  Indiana,  lurked  a  band  of  outlaws. 
There  was  connected  with  these  malefactors  a  singular 
character  by  the  name  of  Rachel  Bolers.  She  came  and 
went;  and  was  believed  to  deal  in  "ha'nts  and  spells." 
Even  at  a  time  in  her  sad  and  melancholy  history,  when 
misfortune  seem.s  to  have  unbalanced  her  mind,  the  ac- 
cepted strangeness  of  her  natural  character — accom- 
panied by  a  shrewdness  which  enabled  her  to  avoid  open 
offense  to  her  neighbors — caused  the  community  to  leave 
her  unrestrained  of  her  liberty.  In  this  wise,  she  wan- 
dered at  will ;  and  represented,  in  the  superstition  which, 
in  the  minds  of  Indian  and  white  man  alike,  clothes  the 
deranged  with  supernatural  attributes,  a  haunting  dread 
and  wayward  happening  to  the  secluded  and  rustic  local- 


72  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

ity.  "With  vengeful  and  unforgiving  passions,  slie  was 
yet  capable  of  kindness  and  humanity. 

It  was  amidst  these  romantic  surroundings  that  night 
was  creeping  in — a  warm  summer  night.  An  occasional 
vivid  flash  of  lightning  and  the  hoarse  growl  and  rum- 
ble of  distant  thunder  would  break  the  silence  and  the 
gathering  gloom.  A  man,  at  a  slow  pace,  rode  toilsomely 
a  strong  hack  of  a  horse  up  a  steep  and  broken  defile  in 
the  hilly,  uneven  country.  A  light  suddenly  shone  in 
the  center  of  a  rough  piece  of  ground  nearby — a  pe- 
culiar softly  luminous  ball  of  light;  it  as  suddenly  dis- 
appeared. It  had  caught  the  eye  of  the  horseman  and, 
for  a  moment,  a  slight  sensation  of  fear  crept  through 
him.  The  rider,  however,  kept  his  gaze  fastened  upon 
the  rough  borders  of  the  way  closer  at  hand  as  though 
expecting  something  which  he  had,  as  yet,  not  seen; 
when,  as  abruptly  as  it  had  before  appeared,  the  glow- 
ing globe  of  light  reappeared  in  a  different  place,  danced 
eerily  from  side  to  side  for  a  fleeting  fraction  of  time 
and  then,  once  more,  vanished.  It  was  again  seen  on 
the  other  side  of  the  road,  in  the  rocky  fields  and  marshy 
land  which  the  rider's  way  had  opened  on. 

' '  Hump  ! ' '  muttered  the  horseman,  ' '  one  of  the 
causes  of  their  superstition — a  will  o'  the  wisp."  He 
rode  on  in  silence,  continuing  his  careful  and  intent 
survey  of  the  wayside.  The  horse,  striking  its  hoof 
upon  a  stony  projection  in  the  road,  stumbled.  The 
rider  reined  the  animal  in  with  a  sharp  jerk  and  con- 
tinued his  progress  with  greater  care. 

"This  is  the  spot,"  he  said,  half  aloud,  looking  up 
at  a  solitary  tree  posted  like  a  sentinel  upon  a  rocky  emi- 
nence. "Lone  Pine!  It  was  here,  they  said,  to  meet 
them." 

"Halt!  Who  goes  there?"  came  a  quick  challenge 
from  the  darkness  at  the  roadside. 


"GOOD  THINGS  OF  DAY,  ETC."  73 

William  White  checked  his  horse. 

"A  friend,"  he  answered  promptly  and  fearlessly. 

"Advance,  friend,  and  give  the  countersign,"  said 
the  hidden  voice  with  the  precision  of  military  system. 

The  events  now  transpiring  were  at  a  time  when  the 
War  of  the  Rebellion  had  not  long  been  fought.  The 
horseman  had,  himself,  been  a  soldier.  He  gave  the 
countersign : 

"Lost  River." 

"Good,"  replied  the  unseen  spokesman,  evidently 
satisfied  with  this  previously  understood  method  of  iden- 
tification. 

"Why  have  you  sent  for  me?"  inquired  White. 
"There  was  something  in  your  letter  concerning  Miss 
Braddock.    It  affects  her?" 

"It  does;  get  down,"  said  the  voice  from  its  hiding 
place. 

The  rider,  understanding  this  to  be  a  direction  to 
dismount,  did  so;  and  stood  quietly  by  his  hard  breath- 
ing animal.  White  had  fought  well  in  the  war;  the  re- 
sult, but  one  arm — the  right — which  now  rested  across 
the  saddle.  A  man  stepped  out  in  front  of  him  into  the 
bridle  path — for  it  was  little  more  than  such — and 
could  be  seen  against  the  confused  background  of  the 
night  advance  a  step,  when  suddenly  came  a  flash  of 
lightning,  revealing  close  to  the  silent  soldier  a  huge 
black  beard,  a  pair  of  flashing  eyes  and  above  it  all  a 
broad,  black  slouch  hat.  There  was  a  peal  of  thunder 
rolling  threateningly  out  over  the  hills. 

In  an  instant,  without  warning  of  any  kind,  the  dis- 
mounted horseman  felt  himself  seized  from  behind,  and 
a  cloth  was  thrown  quickly  and  skilfully  over  his  head 
and  shoulders.  He  struggled  violently  with  his  captors ; 
but,  while  displaying  unusual  strength,  the  disadvan- 
tage at  which  he  had  been  taken  and  the  absence  of  an 


74  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

arm  necessarily  made  his  efforts  at  liberty  of  little 
avail.  His  weapon,  owing  to  the  sudden  and  unexpected 
nature  of  attack,  had,  likewise,  been  rendered  useless ; 
indeed,  its  possession  had  not  occurred  to  him  until,  too 
late,  he  found  himself  in  the  clutches  of  his  treacherous 
and  formidable  assailants. 

"See,  here,  pardner," — the  captive  could  recognize, 
through  the  covering  that  enveloped  his  head,  the  dead' 
ened  sound  of  the  voice  of  the  man  who  had  halted  him 
in  the  road, — "we  don't  mean  ye  no  harm,  but  ye 
mustn't  see  where  ye 're  tuk.  A  friend  o'  ourn  'at  we'd 
like  ter  obleege,  and  w^ho  can't  git  here  on  account  uv 
her  health,  wants  mightily  to  see  ye." 

"To  see  me  on  account  of  Miss  Braddock?"  in  muf- 
fled tones  said  the  one  addressed,  further  restraining 
himself  in  the  hopes  of  securing  an  additional  clue  to  his 
unexpected  plight.  "Your  letter  gave  me  to  so  under- 
stand. ' ' 

"Now,  then,  that's  jest  it,"  responded  the  other 
speaker  comfortably,  appearing  to  be  inspired  by  a 
genuine  desire  to  make  the  situation  as  acceptable  to  his 
captive  as  possible.  "So,  if  ye '11  go  'long  quiet  an' 
peaceable,  ye '11  be  brung  back  ez  safe  ez  ye  went." 

"Anything  in  the  name  of  Miss  Braddock,"  rejoined 
the  prisoner,  "is  enough.  If  you  are  really  acting  in 
her  interest,  you  need  have  no  fear  of  me. ' ' 

"That  there  wniz  what  I  tole  th'  boys,  Mr.  Billy 
White,"  concluded  the  outlaw;  "an.',  now,  we'll  git 
along. ' ' 

The  party  of  outlaws  moved  off  in  a  direction  im- 
possible for  the  blinded  man  to  know,  as,  before  starting, 
he  had  been  turned  around  briskly  with  the  evident  in- 
tention of  confusing  his  sense  of  locality.  Carrying  and 
otherwise  assisting  their  charge  with  what  rude  consid- 
eration appeared  in  their  power,  the  prisoner's  custo- 


''GOOD  THINGS  OF  DAY,  ETC."  75 

dians  made  as  rapid  progress  as  the  rough  character  oi 
the  country  would  permit.  How  far  his  captors  con- 
ducted him,  William  White  had  no  means  of  telling. 
There  was  a  period  of  hurrying  over  many  obstructions, 
inequalities  in  the  ground,  tough  unyielding  branches 
of  short  undergrowth,  and  once  they  splashed  through 
a  narrow  running  stream.  The  captive,  despite  what 
care  was  possible,  was  roughly  lifted,  dragged  or  pulled 
past  these  obstacles  in  their  path  until,  at  length,  nearly 
exhausted  from  the  imperfect  breathing  space  left  in  his 
shrouded  condition,  he  felt  the  others  pause.  There 
was  a  delay,  a  rush  of  cold  air,  a  descent,  the  covering 
was  removed  from  his  head,  and  impenetrable  darkness 
enveloped  White.  At  almost  the  same  instant,  a  match 
flared  and  a  lantern  was  lighted.  They  were  in  an  un- 
derground passage,  the  ragged  and  broken  rock,  through 
which  nature  had  cut  it,  sparkling,  from  nature's  crys- 
tals, with  a  thousand  jetting  reflections  of  light. 

"Where,  the  devil!"  in  a  sharp  tone  of  authority, 
ejaculated  the  outlaw  leader  ^nth  the  lantern,  "hez  thet 
tramp,  'at  j  'ined  the  gang,  gone  to  ? " 

None  seemed  able  to  explain  the  sudden  and  appar- 
ently unlooked  for  disappearance  of  the  new  recruit. 

"  I  '11  bet  he 's  lit  out  and  left  us  in  the  lurch.  Didn  't 
fancy  his  sailor  lingo,  nohow.  Boys,"  said  the  chief  of 
the  outlaws,  with  an  oath,  "he's  got  the  secret — wuz  he 
in  here?"  queried  the  excited  speaker,  breaking  off  and 
looking  about  him  uneasily.  "Lay  for  him,"  he  cried, 
"hunt  him — find  him.  Damn  you  all!"  continued  the 
man  furiously;  "does  anyone  know  anything?" 

The  other  members  of  the  band  glanced  at  each  other 
in  startled  alarm.    They  knew  nothing. 

White  was  led  away;  and  two  outlaws  were  hastily 
dispatched  without  the  cave  in  search  of  the  missing 
tramp. 


76  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

Whoever  the  deserter  was,  he  had  certainly  left  his 
former  brief  companionship  in  a  cloud  of  «?ieertainty 
and,  after  a  hurried  search  of  the  nearer  premises,  a 
copious  flow  of  profanity  and  some  anxious  speculation, 
the  remaining  outlaws  were  obliged  to  proceed  to  their 
destination  in  the  recesses  of  the  earth,  leaving  behind 
them,  in  whatever  situation,  their  disloyal  or  unfortu- 
nate colleague. 

They  had  not  gone  far,  when  the  light  of  the  lan- 
tern, glancing  from  walls  of  strange  and  scintillating 
brilliancy,  glistened  upon  a  body  of  dark  and  murky 
water.  What  its  extent,  or  whence  it  came  or  whither 
went,  the  enforced  companion  of  the  wild  and  desperate 
characters  could  not  tell.  The  somber,  brooding  surface, 
broken  by  the  lantern's  gleam,  lost  itself  in  mysterious 
gloom  where  the  reflection  of  light  ceased  to  illuminate 
its  expanse ;  and  the  silent  and  unfamiliar  visitor  to  this 
solemn  solitude  gazed  out  upon  the  awesome  depths  in 
an  attempt  to  pierce  the  unpierceable  veil  of  stilly  dark- 
ness beyond. 

"The  hidden  course  of  Lost  River,"  muttered  the 
outlaws'  captive  companion,  a  quick  thrill  of  interest 
shooting  through  him. 

The  chief  of  the  outcasts  caught  the  subdued  ex- 
clamation. 

"Right,"  he  said,  as  they  continued  to  advance 
warily  along  the  difficult  and  intricate  way. 

A  silence,  which,  in  the  damp,  mouldy  atmosphere 
of  the  caverns,  enveloped  them  eerily  and  uncannily, 
followed  this  brief  interchange. 

The  robber  chieftain  glanced  suddenly  and  furtively 
into  the  face  of  his  companion. 

"Ye 're  a  writer,  they  say. — Damn  ye!  ef  ye  write 
about  this  here,  we'll  burn  you  and  your  book!"  A 
menace  and  a  snarl  indicated  no  idle  threat. 


''GOOD  THINGS  OF  DAY,  ETC."  77 

The  writer,  greatly  encouraged,  remained  silent. 

The  increased  agitation  of  light,  as  the  robber  chief 
from  time  to  time  waved  his  lantern  about,  caught  the 
other  portions  of  the  cave  into  which  the  way  had  broad- 
ened out  of  the  narrower  passage  through  which  they 
had  come.  The  roof  continued  to  sparkle  and  gleam 
with  unnumbered  and  countless  dancing  rays,  and  the 
walls,  as  far  as  they  could  be  seen,  gave  back  like  sound- 
less echoes  myriads  of  dancing,  dazzling  reflections. 

As  they  went  their  way,  skirting  cautiously  a  narrow 
path  which  led  abruptly  to  the  left  and  offered  a  pre- 
carious and  uncertain  foothold  between  the  river  and 
the  cavern's  side,  frequent  low  spoken  words  of  direc- 
tion and  guidance  were  uttered  by  the  outlaw  leader'  for 
the  benefit  of  his  prisoner.  Again,  they  made  a  turning ; 
a  lofty  chamber  in  the  rock  was  entered;  the  lantern 
bearer  observed,  "that  they  were  there,"  and  the  visi- 
tor saw  a  large  and  spacious  apartment  of  nature's  pre- 
paring, which,  like  the  other  portions  of  the  caverns, 
presented  sparkling,  gleaming  sides  and  ceiling,  where 
the  light  smote  upon  crystal  and  mineral,  awakening 
millions  of  shining  eyes  in  the  blind  vision  of  the  earth. 
Numerous  lamps,  with  reflectors,  had  been  suspended 
about  the  walls,  but  were  not  lighted;  and  upon  the  far 
side  of  the  chamber  shone  a  single  dull  ray  from  a  smoky 
taper  set  upon  a  low  stool.  A  bat  flew  out  of  a  recess 
somewhere;  circled  above  the  heads  of  those  gathered  in 
the  cave,  and  fluttered  blunderingly  through  the  light 
into  the  outer  darkness,  whence  the  new  arrivals  had 
just  come. 

A  man  advanced  from  the  dim  light  at  the  far  side 
of  the  apartment. 

'•She's  clean  off — outen  her  head,  ag'in;  can't  git 
a  thing,    'cept  foolishness,  outen   'er,  cap'n," — the  in- 


78  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

formant  paused  in  front  of  his  chief,  and  added  expres- 
sively: "Crazy,  cap', — crazy  ez  a  June  bug." 

The  robber  leader  conducted  the  bewildered  Wliite 
to  the  taper,  near  which,  upon  a  pallet  of  straw,  lay  a 
M'oman  whose  emaciated  features  were  lighted  by  other 
illumination  than  that  issuing  from  gem  or  taper,  stalac- 
tite or  crj^stal.  The  fires  of  "a  mind  diseased"  appar- 
ently burned  in  those  hollow  eyes,  and  the  low  murmur- 
ings  and  incoherent  wanderings  of  a  deranged  creature, 
at  first  confused,  by  William  White,  with  the  splash  of 
the  underground  stream  which  they  had  just  passed, 
gave  token  that  in  vain  might  effort  here  be  made  to 
learn  the  secret  which  this  man,  now  bending  above  the 
stricken  one,  had  come  to  hear. 

The  woman  appeared  to  rouse  herself  but  for  a  mo- 
ment. 

"Black  Hank,  are  you  there?"  she  asked. 
"Yes,  Rachel,"  answered  the  leader  of  the  outlaws. 
But   she,   at   once,    wandered   off   into   incohereney, 
again. 

"Brad  Simons,"  muttered  the  woman,  in  her  va- 
garies uttering  the  name  of  him  who,  at  the  moment, 
appeared  to  occupy  her  thoughts. 

"Rachel,  ol' gal,  here's  yer  man  Billy  White.  Can't 
ye  talk  to  'im,  ol'  lady?"  A  species  of  rough,  uncouth 
kindness  gave  to  the  robber  chieftain's  voice  a  touch  of 
redeeming  quality,  commending  the  speaker  to  the  sense 
of  William  White  like  nothing  else  could  have  done. 
Turning  to  White,  the  outlaw  continued:  "She's  alius 
talkin'  'bout  Brad  Simons. — Mr.  Wliite,"  went  on  the 
speaker,  in  his  rude  vernacular,  "this  ain't  no  snide 
case,"  meaning  that  the  condition  of  the  woman  called 
Rachel  possessed  elements  Avhieh  appealed,  in  their  jus- 
tice, to  the  sympathies  of  the  right  feeling.  "No  matter 
what  we  fellers  is,  er  what  she  is  er  ain't,  that  'ere  crit- 


'•'GOOD  THINGS  OF  DAY,  ETC."  79 

tur,  thar',  's  ])e'n  a  kind  uv  all  roiin'  mother  to  us  all, 
in  kineness ;  an'  she  an'  her  da'ter  's  a-be'n  misused,  ef  I 
knows  anything  uv  ther  matter,  an'  it's  that's  onsettled 
'er  mind." 

"Has  a  doctor  seen  her?"  asked  White. 

' '  Oh,  a  kind  o '  one, ' '  returned  the  other,  in  a  furtive 
and  evasive  manner,  "She's  sort  o'  chronic,  ez  they  say,' 
— one  minute,  seems  all  right;  next,  don't  know 
nothin'." 

"Why  don't  you  have  her  moved  from  here?" 

"This  ain't  our  movin'  day,  stranger,"  drily  ob- 
served one  of  the  other  occupants  of  the  cave. 

"How  long  has  she  been  confined  here?"  then  said 
White. 

"Pardner,  ye 're  to  ask  ez  few  questions  ez  con- 
venient," said  the  leader  of  the  silent  band. 

The  secret  and  involuntary  visitor,  at  this,  glanced 
up  from  his  contemplation  of  the  form  at  his  feet;  and, 
so  absorbed  had  he  been,  it  was,  for  the  first  time,  borne 
in  upon  his  consciousness  that  a  still  and  motionless 
group  of  captors  surrounding  him  was  disguised  with 
one  fantastic  artifice  or  another.  The  outlaw  leader  wore 
a  great  black  beard ;  whether  false  or  not  was  unapparent 
to  White  at  the  time. 

"Was  she  clear  headed,  when  you  sent  for  me?"   ' 

"Dunno, "  replied  the  chief;  "reckon  she  mought  be. 
Nothin',  anyways,  'u'd  satisfy  'er,  'thout  we'd  hike  ye 
up  here.  She  kep'  sayin',  'Brad  Simons — '  then  she'd 
stop,  kindo ',  and  then  she  'd  say,  '  Git  Billy  White ! '  And, 
ag'in,  'Brad  Simons— Git  Billy  White!'  She'd  break 
off,  an'  then  she'd  say,  'De  Braddock!'  Then  she'd  say: 
'Git  Billy  White!'  A'ter  that,  it  woiz,  'I'll  tell  him,  I'll 
tell  him,  I'll  tell  him,'  over  and  over  ag'in.  Wa'n't  thet 
erbout  it.  Hen  ? ' ' 

Hen  obligingly  said  it  was. 


80  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

The  two  outlaws  here  bent  their  eager  and  inquiring 
looks  upon  the  form  resting  in  the  straw,  and  turned  a 
like  gaze  upon  the  kidnaped  object  of  the  chief's  address, 
as  if  animated  by  the  additional  and  powerful  reason  of 
their  own  personal  curiosity  and  cupidity. 

''Rachel — Mrs.  Bolers,"  spoke  William  White,  sooth- 
ingly, *'do  you  know  me?"  He  knew  the  woman,  in 
common  with  others  of  that  region. 

Rachel  Bolers  moaned,  muttered  something  that 
sounded  like,  "Brad  Simons— Tell  Billy  Wliite,"  and 
presently  appeared  to  sink  into  an  uneasy  slumber. 

She  stirred  fretfully  in  her  restless  sleep,  as  though 
beset  by  evil  dreams.  The  light  continued  to  draw 
sparkles  of  flashing  and  vanishing  rays  from  the  erystal- 
bejeweled  and  broken  ceiling  and  walls  of  the  cavern, 
and  here  and  there  great  upright  formations,  extending 
pillar-wise  from  the  level  sanded  floor  to  the  rugged  and 
uneven  surface  of  the  lofty,  vaulted  roof,  threw  off 
shafts  of  vari-colored  scintillations  in  this  chamber  of 
mystery. 

"Brad  Simons,"  murmured  the  dreamer  on  her  pal- 
let. And,  now,  "De  Braddock."  And,  after  a  bit,  "Billy 
White." 

In  the  world  without,  the  moon  had  followed  the 
menace  of  storm.  The  woods  about  were  silent  in  the 
night's  still  and  solemn  hour.  The  distant  barking  of  a 
watchdog;  the  solitary  call  of  a  farmer  upon  a  lonely 
farm,  or  the  hoot  of  an  owl  alone  gave  sign  of  life,  or 
of  any  agency  of  seemingly  blind  fate,  which  might,  in 
the  course  of  universal  things,  help  piece  out  the  puzzle 
of  a  soul's  travail  and  kind  surcease. 

The  night  wore  on.  The  day  was  breaking  when  Will- 
iam White  left  the  cave,  and  the  first  cool,  fresh  breath 
and  stir  of  coming  dawn  pervaded  the  world,  while,  here 
and  there,  a  bird  sang  its  cheery,  early  note  of  promise. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


THE   BRADDOCK   FARM. 


A  bright,  sunny  morning  showed  a  cozy  farmhouse 
nestling  in  a  quiet  country  yard.  The  yard  was  filled 
with  roses,  larkspur  and  hollyhock.  The  house  was  a 
long,  low,  white,  oldtime  affair,  with  a  quaint  half  story 
topping  the  one  story  beneath.  Two  dormer  windows 
peered  like  kindly  old  fashioned  eyes  from  the  roof.  A 
rambling  covered  porch  ran  the  full  length  of  the  front. 
Myriads  of  deep  crimson  roses  clambered  in  clustering 
profusion  over  the  porch,  loading  the  air  with  perfume. 
Back  of  the  house  was  a  large,  comfortable  barn. 

The  fields  were  bountiful  with  corn,  wheat  and  coun- 
try abundance.  The  harvests  of  the  '60  's  of  the  last  cen- 
tury were  ripening. 

But  for  the  subdued  noise  of  poultry,  the  sound  of 
bees  at  their  hives  by  the  side  of  the  house  and  the  occa- 
sional twittering  of  swallows  about  the  eaves  of  the  house 
and  barn,  all  sounds  of  life  seemed  drov^Tied  in.  the 
drowsy  stillness  of  the  summer  hour. 

Suddenly  a  voice  blithely  singing  fell  upon  the  air, 
while  out  upon  the  porch  there  stepped  from  the  house 
the  singer;  and  De  Braddock,  for  it  was  Brad  Simons' 
object  of  desire  whose  voice  was  heard,  paused  at  the 
steps  descending  to  the  yard  and  ceased  her  modest  vocal 
effort.  She  gazed  at  the  road  which  ran  in  front  of  the 
house,  and  then  tripped' lightly  down  the  two  or  three 
steps  leading  to  the  ground  and  passed  to  the  gate  con- 
necting with  the  highway.  Here  she  stopped  and 
directed  her  look  to  the  road,  south.    She  softly  sighed. 

81 


82  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

Her  gaze  remained  pensively  fixed  upon  the  highway, 
so  that  she  was  not  conscious  of  a  horseman  approach- 
ing from  the  opposite  direction. 

Brad  Simons,  delayed  over  night  in  his  intention  of 
returning  and  seeking  a  meeting  with  De  as  agreed  be- 
tween himself  and  Uncle  Peter,  came  riding  by.  He 
stopped  his  horse  in  front  of  the  gate  where  De  was 
standing,  and  with  an  air  of  confident  anticipation 
saluted  her.  She  acknowledged  his  presence,  but  with  a 
distant  and  preoccupied  air,  and  a  lack  of  cordiality  that 
was  noticeable.  He  dismounted,  and  drawdng  his  bridle 
rein  over  his  arm  advanced  and  stood  by  her  at  the  gate, 
across  which  he  addressed  her. 

"De,"  he  said,  "I  have  been  wanting  very  much  to 
see  you — desiring  just  such  an  opportunity  to  have  a — to 
— to  say  something,  which  may  mean  so  much  to  you  and 
me — to  both  of  us.    May  I  speak?" 

"I  scarcely  know  what  you  mean,  Mr.  Simons,"  re- 
plied the  girl,  glancing  hastily  into  Simons'  face. 

"You  have,  surely,  long  since  kno\\Ti  what  I  have 
meant,"  exclaimed  the  w^ooer,  attempting  to  take  the 
other's  hand. 

De  Braddock  drew  her  hand  away  and  replied : 

"No,  Mr.  Simons,  I  am  unable  to  understand  now,  or 
any  time,  what  you  mean  or  have  meant." 

"De,  it  is  true  I  am  much  older  than  you,  but  you 
know  I  am  rich.  I  am  sure  I  could  make  you  happy.  I 
ask  you  to  be  my  wife.  Could  you  not  let  me  hope  you 
will  some  day  listen  to  me  ?  " 

' '  Why,  ]\Ir.  Simons, ' '  began  the  girl,  only  to  be  inter- 
rupted by  the  suitor. 

' '  Do  not  be  too  hasty.  The  day  may  come — yes,  will 
come — when  you  shall  appreciate  all  I  offer.  Your  father, 
to  whom  I  have  spoken  in  regard  to  my  feelings,  is  not 


THE  BRADDOCK  FARM.  83 

in  any  way  averse.  Can  you  not — De,  will  you  not  marry 
me?" 

' '  But,  I\Ir.  Simons,  I — you  oblige  me  to  speak  frankly, 
I  am  sorry  if  it  hurts  you — I  do  not  love  you.  I  cannot 
marry  a  man  I  do  not  love." 

"Some  day  you  may — love  me,"  urged  Simons  ear- 
nestly, coming  closer. 

"No — no,  I  cannot,  now  or  ever,"  she  exclaimed. 

"You  love — him — White?"  said  Brad,  his  face  pal- 
ing and  his  hands  unconsciously  clenching. 

' '  You  have  no  right  to  ask  me, ' '  cried  the  girl. 

Simons  felt  a  rage,  a  deadly  unreasoning,  jealous 
rage,  begin  to  mount  to  his  brain.  He  knew  well  who 
was  the  rival  whom  he  had  to  measure.  However,  he  re- 
tained sufficient  composure  to  realize  the  unwisdom  of 
betraying  passion  at  such  a  time,  and  by  a  powerful 
effort  restrained  himself. 

"Your  answer  is  'No'?"  he  managed  to  say  with 
something  like  self  possession. 

"My  answer  is  'No,'  "  said  she. 

Brad  Simons  looked  long  at  the  face  of  the  woman 
who  had  refused  him;  and  she,  in  turn,  gazed  without 
flinching  into  his  veiled,  evil,  burning  eyes.  Then,  bow- 
ing quietly,  he  turned  and  left  her. 

Had  he  stormed  it  would  have  been  better.  There 
was  something  ill  in  his  silent  withdrawal  that  sent  a 
thrill  of  unaccountable  apprehension  through  the  object 
of  his  late  address. 

"De,"  called  a  voice  from  the  house. 

The  girl  at  the  gate  appeared  oblivious  to  all  about 
her.  She  had,  once  more,  fallen  into  her  original  rev- 
erie, presenting  a  pretty  picture.  She  was  of  medium 
height,  and  of  attractive  and  pleasing  face.  Her  chest- 
nut hair  lay  in  little  tangled  ringlets,  waves  and  fluffs 
about  her  head,  face  and  neck.    Her  teeth,  through  her 


84  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

half  parted  lips,  gleamed  white  and  pearly.  Her  cheeks 
were  round  and  dimpled,  and  her  eyes  dark  and  engag- 
ing.   She  wore  a  simple  gingham  frock. 

The  voice  from  the  house  was  heard  a  second  time, 
insistently. 

"Yes,  yes,  mother,"  rejoined  the  girl,  coming  out  of 
her  day  dreams  and  partly  turning. 

From  the  door  whence  had  come  the  maid  now  came 
Martha  Braddock. 

' '  De,  what  be  ye  doin '  out  there  ? ' '  asked  the  mother 
from  her  position  on  the  porch. 

"Oh,  nothing,  mother,"  replied  De  with  pretty  pet- 
ulant indifference,  turning  back  to  her  view  of  the  wheat 
fields  and  the  road. 

' '  'Pears  like  it, ' '  responded  the  elder  woman  drily. 
"Now,  see  here,  child,"  continued  she,  a  tone  of  reproof 
struggling  for  mastery  in  her  kind  voice,  when  she  was 
interrupted  by  a  sudden  exclamation  from  the  other. 

' '  I  %\dsh, ' '  impulsively  cried  the  girl,  ' '  that  that  Brad 
Simons  would  stay  away." 

"Wliy,  what  ails  the  gal!  Brad  kin  do  no  harm. 
He's  powerful  rich." 

"Yes,  but  I  don't  want  him — so  there,"  retorted 
the  other,  her  graceful  figure  and  dimpled  good  natured 
countenance  taking  on  an  expression  of  determined  and 
unyielding  objection. 

"Well,  ye  know,  since  ye  come  from  school,  your  pa's 
'lowed,  onc't  or  twic't,  as  how  Billy  White,"  (De,  con- 
cerned that  morning  with  William  White's  failure  the 
night  previous  to  visit  her,  as  he  had  requested  at  the 
schoolhouse  permission  to  do, — a  failure  due,  in  her  ig- 
norance, to  his  experience  with  the  outlaws, — gave  an- 
other suggestive  and  sweeping  glance  up  and  doAvn  the 
road  in  troubled  silence),  "  'cause  of  his  po'try  writin' 
an'  sich,  was  no  'count."    The  speaker,  as  she  delivered 


THE  BRADDOCK  FARM.  85 

these  remarks  to  the  fair  object  of  them,  gradually  ad- 
vanced from  the  porch  into  the  yard  until  she  stood  by 
her  daughter's  side. 

"You  haven't  anything  against  him,  have  you?" 
queried  the  young  girl,  wistfully  scrutinizing  the  moth- 
erly face  beside  her. 

"Ag 'in' Billy  White?  The  Lord  love  ye !  no.  He's 
a  queer  crittur,  tho',  and  they  make  'im  wuss  by  settin' 
their  faces  ag'in'  him." 

The  road  leading  past  the  house,  at  this  moment 
echoed  with  the  rattle  of  an  approaching  vehicle,  which 
proved  to  be  a  democrat — not  the  political  article,  but  a 
medium-sized  spring-wagon  known  by  that  name.  The 
conveyance  drawn  by  a  stout  roan  horse  came  on  at  a 
good,  brisk  rate.  Sitting  upon  the  seat  of  the  democrat 
was  a  man  of  strikingly  homely  features,  who  drove,  and 
whistled  shrilly  in  a  tuneless  effort  at  a  popular  air. 

"De,"  said  the  mother  with  an  accent  of  amused 
pleasure,  and  glancing  hastily  at  the  dusty  highway,  "I 
do  declare  there's  that  ree-dik-lus  Bob  Likkum,"  and 
De's  mother  hurriedly  wiped  her  hands  on  the  apron 
hanging  from  her  comfortable  girth  of  waist,  and  her 
fingers  sought  a  stray  wisp  of  gray-sprinkled  hair  at  her 
temple. 

"  He  is  a  funny  man, ' '  said  the  daughter,  in  full  sym- 
pahty  with  her  mother's  appreciation  of  the  humorous 
characteristics  of  the  person  in  question. 

' '  j\Ios '  makes  me  die  laughin '.  Don 't  know  what  I  '11 
do,  if  he  comes  'round  much  more  with  that  funny  some- 
thing about — somebody,"  remarked  Mrs.  Braddock,  en- 
tirely and  hopelessly  at  a  loss  to  remember  the  anecdote 
in  point,  but  quite  overpowered  by  the  recollection.  The 
worthy  woman's  features  became  convulsed  with  merri- 
ment. 


86  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

Robert  Likkum,  a  comedian  of  that  neighborhood, 
drew  on  toward  the  house. 

"Howdee,  Mis'  Braddock, "  called  the  driver  of  the 
democrat  to  the  elder  woman,  as  he  stopped  the  roan  at 
the  gate.  "Pooty  as  a  peach.  Miss  De,"  gallantly  added 
the  rustic  courtier,  besto\\dng  this  last  compliment  upon 
the  younger  of  the  two  women ;  ' '  wislit  you  'd  marry 
me,"  and  the  man  smiled  genially,  awaiting  the  retort 
which  a  friendly  passage  at  arms  never  failed  to  bring 
from  Mrs.  Braddock 's  popular  offspring. 

Instead  of  receiving  a  verbal  box  on  the  ears  as  the 
country  gallant  expected,  Robert  Likkum  was  taken  back 
by  the  object  of  his  address  answering  with  ready  and 
apparent  sincerity: 

"Marry  you  right  off,  but  'pon  one  condition." 

As  Likkum  had  his  own  particular  reasons  for  not 
seriously  meaning  matrimony,  and  not  being  "vnthout 
vanity,  he  experienced  that  form  of  alarm  which  warns 
the  male  breast  of  the  possible  unexpected  surrender  of 
the  female  forces.  Robert,  in  this  not  unusual  state  of 
self  deception,  gazed  helplessly  at  the  instrument  of  his 
discomfiture. 

"Wha — what  condition?"  stammered  he,  without 
getting  down  from  the  democrat,  his  unusually  homely 
albeit  honest  face  wearing  a  look  of  ludicrous  confusion. 

''That  you  get  yourself  made  over,"  and  the  girl, 
letting  fly  this  primitive  shaft,  emitted  a  peal  of  silvery 
laughter  that  Bob's  best  story  could  not  by  any  possi- 
bility have  improved. 

Poor  Likkum  turned  red,  but  climbed  out  of  the 
democrat  and  hitched  the  roan.  By  the  time  he  was  at 
the  house,  however,  he  was  smiling  bravely. 

"How's  Mist'  Braddock?"  inquired  Bob,  addressing 
Mrs.  Braddock  and  trying  to  appear  unconscious,  while 
he  found  it  impossible  to  restrain  his  eyes  from  wander- 


THE  BRADDOCK  FARM.  87 

ing,  at  disturbed  intervals,  apprehensively  in  his  late  ad- 
versary's  direction. 

"Come  in — come  in;  don't  mind  that  gal.  Peter's 
well.  He's  out  with  the  hands,"  and  saying  this,  Mrs. 
Braddock,  with  intonations  of  hearty  welcome  in  her 
voice,  moved  bustlingly  into  the  house  followed  by  her 
caller;  while  De,  brimming  with  mischief,  hung,  figura- 
tively speaking,  at  all  points  threateningly  on  the  Lik- 
kum's  harrassed  flank,  and  quite  overawed  and  discon- 
certed the  Likkum  understanding. 

"Now,  ye  behave  yerself, "  remonstrated  Mrs.  Brad- 
dock  in  a  hoarse  whisper  to  her  daughter.  "I  say,  don't 
mind  her" — this  again  to  Bob,  who  sat  fanning  himself 
with  his  hat,  having  taken  a  seat  on  the  extreme  edge 
of  one  of  Mrs.  Braddock 's  stiff  back  parlor  chairs.  The 
fun-loving  De,  regarding  Likkum 's  rout  as  both  disas- 
trous and  complete,  concluded  to  exercise  mercy  and 
considerately  left  the  room  to  presently,  with  gracious 
smiles,  return  and  hand  the  welcome  guest  a  dish  of  en- 
ticing early  apples. 

"Now,  I  reckon.  Miss  De,  you  do  beat  the  Jews," 
observed  Likkum,  his  peace  of  mind  agreeably  restored. 
He  gazed  with  strong,  manly  admiration  at  the  fresh 
young  face  of  his  late  tormentor.  "D'yo'  know  who  I 
seen  jes'  now  when  I  wuz  comin'  up  the  road?"  added 
he.  "'Twuzn't  Brad — Brad  Simons.  I  know  ye  don't 
like  thet  'ere  Brad.  Don't  blame  ye.  'Twoizn't  liim. 
'Tw^iz  the  other." 

"The  other"  was  William  White,  who,  liberated 
according  to  the  terms  of  agreement  which  the  cavern 
outlaws  had  made  the  night  before,  energetically  rose 
on  this  morning  to  realize  that  some  boding  and,  as  yet, 
unexplained  mystery,  or  the  empty  fancy  of  an  eccentric 
and  harmless  mad  woman,  had  risen  with  him  to  pursue 
and  threaten  the  future  of  De  Braddock,  if  not  of  him- 


88  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

self.  His  attempted  though  enforced  interview  with 
Rachel  Bolers  had  been  productive  of  no  light  on  the 
meaning  of  her  remarks,  rational  or  otherwise,  which 
had  led  the  freebooters  to  bring  him  into  her  presence. 
There  had  been  times  when,  in  the  soldier-writer's  obser- 
vation of  the  creature  about  the  country,  he  had  half  sus- 
pected Rachel  Bolers,  in  her  erratic  movements,  of  mere 
cunning  assumption  of  the  character  of  a  lunatic.  He 
had  before  observed  that  she  cherished  some  deep  and 
bitter  animosity  to  Brad  Simons;  and  he  had  long  ago 
been  unable  to  determine  whether  or  not  she  employed 
her  wayward  manner  to  cloak  her  deeper  designs.  He 
had  not  expected  to  find  her  in  this  association  wdth  out- 
laws, although  he  was  not  surprised  at  anything  con- 
nected with  the  woman.  His  chief  cause  of  wonderment 
was,  that  the  thieves  and  malefactors  should  so  daringly, 
even  though  previously  blindfolding  him,  introduce  him- 
self into  their  secret  hiding  place  which,  by  reason  of 
guarded  and  cunning  concealment  on  the  part  of  the 
outcasts,  had  been  but  a  matter  of  fearsome  speculation 
among  the  country  people  for  years.  He  judged  that, 
grown  bold  to  the  point  of  contempt  for  and  indifference 
to  a  community  which  the  desperadoes  had  so  long  held 
in  subjection,  the  outlaws  had  deemed  it  a  safe  venture, 
with  ordinary  precautions,  to  gratify  or  endeavor  to 
gratify  one  to  whom  they  appeared,  as  in  the  case  of 
Rachel  Bolers,  to  acknowledge  a  species  of  indebtedness ; 
or  that  they  took  the  risk  to  gain,  through  her  disclos- 
ures, information  of  value  to  themselves  in  their  own 
other  lawless  operations. 

That  William  White  loved  De  Braddock  there  could 
be  no  manner  of  doubt.  It  had  been  only  the  discourag- 
ing view  which,  in  those  times,  practical  thought  and  in 
a  rural  locality  appeared  to  hold  for  the  profession  of 
letters,  that  had  thus  far  held  him  back  from  commit- 


THE  BRADDOCK  FARM.  89 

ting  an  interest  as  sacred  as  his  regard  for  De  to  any 
questioning,  until  success  in  his  chosen  vocation  should 
crown  his  efforts.  If  mistaken  in  such  a  course,  he  had, 
nevertheless,  been  equally  sincere. 

A  blush  on  the  fair  brow  of  his  companion  told  Lik- 
kum  that  he  had  secured  a  speedy  revenge  in  his  refer- 
ence to  "the  other." 

"Well,  there,"  continued  Bob,  generously  abstain- 
ing from  pursuing  his  advantage,  "ain't  goin'  to  pester 
ye;  seen  Billy — Billy  White.  He's  a  writer,  and  got 
yaller  hair,  hain't  he?"  and  Likkum,  impelled  by  some 
subtle  association  of  "yaller  hair"  with  literature, 
paused.  "Ain't  no  harm  in  him  nuther,  calk 'late?" 
pursued  Bob.  He  glanced  as  in  a  kind  of  casual  inquiry 
into  the  face  now  a  trifle  nearer  his  own,  for  the  girl,  in- 
spired by  some  deeper  interest  than  she  had  heretofore 
manifested,  had  moved  a  step  closer  to  the  visitor.  ' '  No, ' ' 
said  the  speaker,  as  he  examined  the  innocent  young 
countenance,  "see  there  hain't;  couldn't  no  harm  come 
out  o'  nuthin'  'round  where  you  wiiz,"  and  the  rural 
moralist  lapsed  into  silence,  apples  and  sage  meditation. 
"Looked  kindo'  pale,  Billy  did,"  said  Bob  presently, 
looking  up. 

Could  it  be,  thought  De,  that  her  lover's  failure  to 
come  to  her  on  the  evening  before,  as  he  had,  in  her  sense 
of  maidenly  and  ecstatic  recollection,  craved  permission 
to  do,  was  owing  to  illness?  Her  keen  disappointment 
had  something  of  its  sharper  edge  taken  off  by  the  sup- 
position, although  her  concern  became  increased.  She 
could,  of  course,  have  little  idea  of  the  stress  and  dan- 
ger through  which  the  object  of  her  love  and  affection 
had  passed  at  the  hands  of  the  outlaws  on  her  account, 
or,  with  the  singular  inconsistency  of  womankind,  and 
indeed  human  nature  in  general,  her  approval  and  ad- 
miration would  have  eagerly  taken  the  place  of  her  solic- 


90  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

itude,  and,  so  to  speak,  fallen  down  and  worshiped  her 
heroic  idol. 

' '  Is  he  sick,  Robert  ? ' '  quickly  asked  De. 

' '  Reckon  none  to  hurt, ' '  replied  Bob  consolingly. 

' '  Where  'd  you  see  him  ? ' '  said  De. 

"He 'pin'  Widder  Wa'msey  fix  her  chicken  coop," 
replied  Bob. 

"He  boards  wdth  her,"  said  the  maid,  appearing  to 
consider  this  the  safer  explanation  for  Mr.  White's  pres- 
ence at  the  Widow  Walmsey's  dwelling  place. 

"Yep,"  assented  Bob. 

The  girl  drew  a  little  sigh  of  seeming  relief. 

"She's  too  old,"  said  she,  as  if  actuated  by  a  eun-' 
ning  second  thought. 

' '  Heart 's  never  old, ' '  said  the  man. 

"De,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Braddock,  who  had  \Adth- 
drawn  to  the  kitchen  and  at  this  instant  appeared  at  the 
parlor  door,  "them  pies  need  'tendin',"  and  the  daugh- 
ter flew  with  rather  more  than  her  accustomed  alacrity 
to  do  her  mother's  bidding. 

"Seems  kind  o'  pleased  \dth  Billy,"  observed  Lik- 
kum,  indicating  De's  vanishing  form  and  addressing 
himself  to  Mrs.  Braddock. 

Mother  Braddock  seated  herself  for  a  little  spell 
of  rest,  and  to  entertain  her  visitor  as  well  as  her  best 
powers  would  permit.  She  rocked  comfortably  in  the 
rocking  chair,  and  finally  remarked  in  response  to  Rob- 
ert 's  words,  while  a  bumble-bee  buzzed  by  the  open  door : 

"Yes,  De  be  right  smart  set  on  Billy,  and  he  on 
her,"  Mrs.  Braddock  drew  a  sigh.  "Don't  know  'bout 
marryin'  sometime,  anyway,"  dubiously,  if  a  little  un- 
faithfully, pursued  the  good  lady  in  a  general  way. 
"Things  turns  out  so  orful  bad  sometimes.  There's 
John's  weddin' — marriage,  ye  know,  weth  that  mizible 
Nance — Nance  Bolers. " 


i  THE  BRADDOCK  FARIM.  91 

>.  ■ 

"Maw,"  called  De  from  the  kitchen. 

Mrs.  Braddock  hastily  went  to  see  what  her  daughter 
wanted,  stricter  country  manners  being  swept  away  by 
domestic  necessity. 

"That  there  feller's  a  sing'lar  kind  of  a  cuss,"  went 
on  Bob  gravely  to  himself,  upon  Mrs.  Braddock 's  tem- 
porary withdrawal  from  the  room,  and  continuing  an 
analysis  of  the  Character  of  William  White,  who  had 
been  furnishing  the  absorbing  topic  of  conversation  be- 
tween himself,  De's  mother  and  De  herself;  "an'  I 
never  know  jes'  whether  them  po'try  writin'  chaps 
'mounts  to  nothin ',  nohow. ' '  The  puzzled  man  wrinkled 
up  his  brows  and  took  a  huge  bite  from  an  apple  in  his 
hand.  "Guess,  if  any  gal  wants  to  jes'  marry  a  'roses- 
red,-violets-blue,-sugar  's-sweet-and-so-are-you '  poet-and- 
writer-chap,  she  kin,  though,"  and,  with  this  extraor- 
dinary description  of  a  literary  character  as  embodied 
in  William  White,  Bob  Likkum  finished  eating  the  apple 
in  his  hand;  then,  repeating  to  himself  gravely  for  a 
humorist  and  with  an  accent  of  gentleness,  "  a  '  roses-red,- 
violets-blue,-sugar  's-sweet-and-so-are-you '  poet-and-writ- 
er-  chap,"  he  left  the  house  and  went  out  into  the  door- 
yard  to  see  if  the  roan,  feloniously  attacked  by  horseflies, 
was  going  to  kick  the  democrat  to  pieces. 

Robert  Likkum  had  seen  the  better  part  of  thirty- 
six  years  of  life.  He  was  of  a  tall,  thin,  angular  build 
and,  as  is  often  seen  in  those  possessing  a  vein  of  humor, 
was  endowed  with  an  austere  visage  which  would  have 
put  to  blush  a  spiritual  ruler  of  the  days  of  the  New 
England  Blue  Laws.  His  hair  was  coarse  and  red;  his 
skin  sandy ;  his  cheek  bones  high ;  his  ears  large ;  his  eyes 
small  and  ferrety,  and  his  heart  was  as  true  as  steel. 

As  ]Mr.  Likkum 's  general  looks  of  solemnity  height- 
ened his  humorous  traits  of  personal  character  so  his 
dress  was  severe  in  its  simplicity,  consisting  of  a  well 


92  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

worn  suit  of  funereal  black  made  in  the  style  of  the  day, 
with  high  coat  collar,  tight  sleeves  and  full  trousers 
drawn  close  about  the  ankles  around  which,  at  this  mo- 
ment, the  big  family  Newfoundland  dog  was  sniffing  in 
friendly  fashion.  A  peculiarity  of  Bob's  was,  on  holi- 
days and  at  times  of  unusual  and  extreme  festivity,  to 
change  this  "mortal  aspect  to  one  of  gay  not  to  say  gaudy 
attire. 

"By  gosh!"  exclaimed  Bob,  suddenly  slapping  his 
breast  pocket,  as  Mrs.  Braddock  and  De  could  be  seen 
through  the  kitchen  door  which,  after  repelling  the 
horseflies  and  visiting  the  barn,  he  had  just  reached; 
"I  do  declare  afore  gracious,  but  I  got  a  letter  fur  you, 
Mis'  Braddock;  an'  Miss  De,"  said  he,  looking  slyly  over 
where  the  figure  of  the  attractive  girl  appeared  midst 
flour  and  pastry,  "  's  so  sweet  I  f urgot  the  hull  busi- 
ness. ' ' 

Likkum  hastily  thrust  his  hand  into  his  coat  pocket 
and  extracted  a  letter.  He  walked  quickly  into  the 
kitchen  and  handed  Mrs.  Braddock  the  forgotten  mis- 
sive which,  in  the  spirit  of  accommodation  existing  in 
the  country,  he  had  brought  from  the  neighboring  post 
office. 


CHAPTER  X. 


JOHN. 


"From  John,"  briefly  observed  Mrs.  Braddoek,  tak- 
ing the  letter  from  Bob's  outstretched  hand  and  scan- 
ning the  address. 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  De  interestedly,  for  she  loved  her 
brother  from  whom  the  letter  had  been  received. 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Braddoek,  and  continuing  to  view 
the  lately  received  envelope ;  ' '  them 's  the  way  John  alius 
'u'd  make  his  letters,  jes'  when  he  wuz  a  leetle  feller," 
and  she  got  a  pair  of  spectacles  from  a  shelf  at  hand, 
cleaned  them  carefully  upon  her  apron,  placed  them 
upon  her  nose  and  addressed  herself  to  the  perusal  of  the 
communication  from  her  absent  son. 

She  read  attentively  through  the  letter  and  silently 
laid  it  on  the  table.  She  took  off  her  glasses  without 
speaking,  replaced  them  on  the  shelf,  scratched  her  nose 
— a  way  she  had  when  vexed — and  returned  to  her  pas- 
try. She  worked  for  several  seconds  without  speaking. 
Bob  Likkum,  in  silence,  remained  near  the  door.  De 
waited  nearby. 

' '  That  thar '  critter  '11  be  the  death  of  the  pore  feller, 
reckon,"  at  last  observed  Mrs.  Braddoek,  going  steadily 
on  with  the  employment  in  hand. 

"Oh,  dear!"  cried  De  in  dismay. 

* '  Yes,  'low  it  '11  be  her  ur  him — one  er  t  'other  '11  have 
to  get  off'n  the  everlastin'  earth — 'tain't  big  enough  for 
both;  no,  sir!  Well,  the  Lord's  ways  is  curious  ways, 
an'  we're  all  on  us  pore  sinners,"  and  the  troubled 
woman  quietly  wiped  a  tear  from  her  eye.    She  pressed 

93 


94  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

the  soft  dough  into  the  tin  scallops  ornamenting  the  rim 
of  a  piepan,  and  filled  the  pastry  lined  receptacle  with 
finely  chopped  apples  plentifully  dusted  with  sugar  and 
nutmeg.  Covering  the  appetizing  mixture  ^vith  material 
for  an  upper  crust,  she  carried  the  delicacy  to  the  stove 
and  placed  it  with  similar  preparations  in  the  hot  oven. 

Her  companions  had  preserved  during  the  foregoing 
operations  a  discreet,  if  rather  lengthened,  silence.  Bob 
Likkum,  looking  on  near  the  door,  at  length  cleared  his 
throat  and  made  effort,  in  the  sincerity  of  his  nature,  to 
supply  relief  and  assurances  of  good  will.  All  in  that 
neighborhood  knew  the  singular  story  of  young  John 
Braddock's  marriage. 

"Ye  see,  Mis'  Braddock,"  began  the  sympathetic 
Bob,  clearing  his  throat  a  second  time,  "I  don't  know 
nothin'  'bout  this  'ere  thing  of  John's  present  er,  ez  ye 
might  say,  new  trouble,  the '  't  must  be  right  smart  to  set 
ye  so  sharp.  Is  it  Nance  'at's  the  trouble,  er  that  'ere 
brother  uv  Nance?" 

Mrs.  Braddock  was  either  insensible  to  the  sound  of 
Bob's  voice  or,  which  was  more  likely,  was  unwilling  to 
admit  that  it  was  not  John's  wife  Nance,  whom  ]\Iartiia 
Braddock's  speech  had  arraigned,  but  the  wife's  brother 
who  was  at  fault ;  and  so  the  mother  of  John  Braddock 
was  silent. 

"Ef,  Mrs.  Braddock,"  continued  Bob,  who  would 
have  helped  a  friend  with  money,  time  or  service  in  any 
way  in  his  power, — "ef  they's  anything  I  kin " 

Mrs.  Braddock  interrupted  him. 

"Nothin' — nothin',  't  all,  ye  kin  do,  Robert,"  said 
the  good  woman,  without  turning  from  her  work — 
•'nothin',  't  all.    The  Lord's  will  be  done!" 

"Amen !  Mother  Braddock,"  said  a  new  and  reveren- 
tial voice  from  the  rear  of  Bob  Likkum,  "and  may  you 
and  all  who  sorrow  be  comforted."    The  speaker  ceased 


JOHN.  95 

and,  walking  past  Likkum,  entered  with  country  infor- 
mality the  tidy  kitchen  of  the  farmer's  family.  "Could- 
n't make  you  hear,  in  front,"  added  the  caller  explana- 
torily, "so  I  stole  a  march,  in  the  rear." 

"Brother  Woods,  right  glad  to  see  you,"  said  De's 
mother,  as  the  latter  turned  and  greeted  the  newcomer. 
"De,  ye  must  git  the  parson  a  cheer.  There,  there;  sit 
down,"  and  Mrs.  Braddock  hospitably  forced  her  guest 
into  a  seat. 

"I  trust,"  said  Parson  "Woods,  as  he  settled  himself 
in  the  chair  which  De  at  her  mother's  bidding  had  pro- 
vided, and  gave  a  quick  glance,  in  remembrance  of  the 
tone  of  previous  conversation  overheard  by  him,  at  the 
open  letter  still  lying  on  the  kitchen  table,  "that  you 
have  received  no  bad  tidings  of  any  sort,  Mrs.  Brad- 
dock?"  The  visitor's  tones  were  kind  and  those  of  a 
good  and  well  meaning  minister.  Parson  Woods,  highly 
esteemed,  was  of  long-time  residence  amongst  his  flock 
of  the  neighborhood  Slethodist  parish. 

Martha  Braddock 's  conscience  may  have  been  quick- 
ened by  the  visit  of  her  spiritual  adviser;  for  she  ap- 
peared, in  her  reply  which  at  once  followed  Parson 
Woods'  inquiry,  to  be  concerned  with  a  recollection  of 
possible  injustice  done  by  her  to  her  son's  wife. 

"Well,  well,  parson,"  said  she,  with  otherwise  ap- 
parent irrelevance,  ' '  mebbe  I  wuz  a  mite  hard  on  the  gal 
— mebbe  I  wuz.  'Tain't  reely  the  gal's  fault,  this  time, 
a'terall." 

"What  is  not  the  girl's  fault — of  whom  are  you 
speaking?"  mildly  and  gravely  inquired  the  pastor. 

"John's  wife,  parson,"  replied  Mother  Braddock. 

"I  am  sincerely  glad  to  hear  she  is  not  at  fault, '^ 
rejoined  the  preacher.  "I  have  been  told  she  is  making 
John  a  most  excellent  and  faithful  wife,"  added  he  ear- 
nestly.   * '  You  know  salvation  's  free, ' ' — the  worthy  and 


96  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

conscientious  minister  lost  no  opportunity  of  registering 
the  beneficent  precepts  of  Methodism. 

"Ye 're  right — ye 're  right,  parson,"  said  Martha 
Braddock  generously,  and  De  looked  pleased, — "ye 're 
right,  an'  so's  Bob.  'Tain't  the  gal — tain't  her — 'tain't 
Nance.  It's  jes'  ez  Bob  sez — it's  thet  scamp — thet  res- 
kel  Tom — Tom  Bolers,  Nance's  brother.  On'y,"  went 
on  the  perplexed  and  distressed  woman,  "ef  John  hadn't 
'a'  married  Nance,  'twouldn't  hev'  brought  that  scala- 
wag-villain Tom  Bolers  to  worrit  and  fret  the  life  out'n 
John.  But,"  exclaimed  Mother  Braddock,  finding  a 
welcome  refuge  in  a  change  of  topic, — "but  that  there 
eclipse  uv  the  sun,  which  is  to-day,  ought  about  to  be 
aroun',"  and  Mrs.  Braddock  walked  to  the  kitchen  door 
and  interestedly  peered  forth  at  the  blinding  god  of 
day,  which  certainly  as  yet  gave  no  evidence  of  hiding 
his  flaming  face.  "But,  there  now,  parson,"  further 
ejaculated  the  farmer's  wife,  breaking  off  suddenly, 
"my  gracious!  how  kin  ye  stand  this  heat;  this  kitchen 
is  jes'  like  a  bake  oven.  De,  child,  take  the  parson  into 
the  parlor."  Then,  turning  to  Likkum:  "And,  Robert, 
you  and  him  sit  in  front. ' ' 

John,  son  of  Peter  and  Martha  Braddock,  was  twen- 
ty-seven years  of  age.  He  was  residing  and  in  business 
at  a  town  some  distance  from  Peter's  farm.  Seven  years 
before  this,  while  still  living  at  home  with  the  old  folks, 
he  had  first  met  Nance  Bolers,  who  afterwards  became 
John  Braddock 's  wife.  The  young  woman,  from  the 
day  of  wrong  and  desertion  at  the  hands  of  her  unknown 
betrayer  to  the  time  when  she  had  secured  the  love 
and  confidence  of  young  Braddock,  had,  in  the  unhappy 
attitude  in  which  society  places  the  erring  and  the  fallen, 
been,  justly  or  otherwise,  the  subject  of  remark  for  that 
locality. 

It  may,  at  any  time,  be  a  matter  of  grave  question 


JOHN.  97 

how  to  properly  dispose  conventionality  as  to  the  justice 
due  those  placed  under  its  purely  artificial  bans.  It  is 
an  absurdity  to  visit  nature's  trying  participations 
with  bloodcurdling  and  appalling  censure;  and  many  a 
male  or  female  young,  had  he  or  she  not  been  terrorized 
by  habitual  parental  condemnation  into  withholding 
confidence  at  a  particular  time  of  life,  would  have  es- 
caped destruction  resulting  from  deceit,  evasion  and 
flight. 

Young  Braddock  was  a  man  of  integrity.  He  was 
singularly  pure  minded.  He  had  his  own  conception  of 
right  and  a  corresponding  tenacity  in  adhering  to 
that  conception,  which  to  a  less  charitably  minded  per- 
son might  have  appeared  lacking  in  worldly  wisdom. 

John's  letter  spoke  of  trouble.  Truth  claims  the 
statement  that  it  was  not  trouble  of  Nance's  bringing 
about.  Nance  had  an  infinitely  no-account  brother, 
whose  unholy,  unlimited  and  regrettable  capacity  for 
mischief  was  eventually  to  contribute  materially  to  John 
Braddock 's  calamitous  undoing;  and,  in  the  tangled 
windings  of  destiny,  help  ravel  the  phantoms  from  the 
meshes  of  our  fleeting  lives ! 


CHAPTER  XI. 


WHERE  THIEVES  FELL  OUT  AND  TOM  BOLERS   CAME  IN. 

Hen,  the  outlaw,  walked  on  ahead  of  his  chieftain, 
while  the  latter  worthy  despoiled  humankind. 

' '  Get  the  money, ' '  Black  Hank  spoke  and  toyed  with 
the  fringes  of  his  great  black  beard,  whose  somber  hue 
put  a  lonely  crow,  at  that  moment  flying  high  over  the 
heads  of  the  outlaw  leader  and  his  quarry,  apparently 
to  the  blush  and  sent  it  cawing  protestingly  to  the  hills. 
A  buzzard  wheeling  above  a  neighboring  wood,  past 
which  Hank  and  his  contemplated  victim  were  slowly 
walking,  circled  nearer;  seemingly  to  share  in  the  prey 
which,  in  the  threat  and  gloom  of  coming  storm  and 
approaching  night,  the  outlaws  were  luring  to  his  fate. 

Tom  Bolers,  a  young  reprobate  of  not  a  very  high 
order  of  intelligence  at  best  and  forming  the  lawless 
outcast's  present  dupe,  broke  into  the  speech  of  his  own 
type. 

"How  'ml  goin'  to  know  yo'll  do  the  square  thing 
by  me,  huh  ? "  he  queried. 

Hank  kicked  a  stone  out  of  his  way — Bolers  looked 
at  the  buzzard;  they  continued  their  slow,  self  occupied 
walk. 

"If  you  don't  git  th'  money  an'  give  it  to  us,  after 
■what  I've  told  you  about  our  secrets,  we'll  put  ye  out  o' 
business,  anyway,"  threatened  the  outlaw  leader  signi- 
ficantly. "I  tell  ye  it'll  cost  that  much  to  j'ine  us  an' 
become  a  reg'lar  member — and  bein'  told  all  about  the 
gang,"  continued  the  ruffian  evilly,  and  with  an  appar- 
ent understanding  of  a  weakness  of  character  making 

98 


WHERE  THIEVES  FELL  OUT.  99 

the  other  easy  of  management,  "an'  havin'  said  yo'd 
j  'ine,  ef  ye  don 't  do  it  we  '11  leg  ye,  now,  anyhow, ' '  which 
evidently  meant  something  of  so  direful  a  description 
to  Tom's  apprehension  that  he  preferred,  under  any  con- 
ditions, to  avoid  it,  for  he  hastened  to  assure  the  chief  of 
desperadoes  that  he  would  discharge  all  pledges  he  had 
made,  or  willingly  abide  the  consequences. 

"Willin'  ur  not,"  retorted  Hank  gruffly,  "ye '11  git 
'em." 

"Ain't  got  no  money,  meself,"  went  on  Bolers,  thus 
agreeably  and  forcibly  admonished.  "Don't  know 
how '11  git  any,"  and  he  gazed  vaguely  upon  the  un- 
moved countenance  of  the  robber. 

"'Tain't  my  business;  you  git  it,"  was  the  implac- 
able reception  the  other  met  %\dth  from  Black  Hank. 
"Wouldn't  keer  nothin'  'bout  it,"  Tom's  baleful  com- 
panion continued,  "ef  ye  hadn't  'a'  led  us  to  suppose 
ye  'd  j  'ine  us.  Ye  '11  j  'ine  us  now, ' '  rethreatened  Hank,, 
"er  ye '11  git  lost  some  night  an'  never  git  found,  no 
more.  Understand  that,  do  ye?"  The  speaker  paused 
loweringly,  and  waved  his  hand  wtih  a  menacing  ges- 
ture before  Tom  Boler's  face,  planting  himself  screen- 
ingly  in  front  of  Tom  as  a  farmer  went  by  in  a  wagon 
and  turned  to  gaze  curiously  at  the  men  in  the  roadway. 

Bolers  stared  moodily  and  heavily  at  the  ground, 
his  eyes  dropping  their  look  before  the  hypnotism  of  the 
other  man's  fierce  and  determined  manner. 

"Ye've  a  little  property,  hain't  ye?"  inquired  Tom's 
taskmaster,  walking  a  little  way  to  where  his  henchman, 
the  trusty  Hen, — who  had  tactfully  allowed  his  chief  to 
be  alone  with  their  prey, — stood  ruminating  by  himself. 
"Hain't  he  a  little  property.  Hen,  eh?" 

"Shore — sart'in,"  said  the  other  outlaw,  working  up 
a  manner  of  genial  assent. 

"It's    in    court — 'tain't    settled — they're    lawin' — 


100  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

'twon't  do  no  good,"  replied  John  Braddock's  brother 
in  law. 

"Well,"  retorted  the  leader  of  the  outlaws,  contin- 
uing to  play  upon  the  fears  of  his  vietim,  "you  know 
too  much  for  to  be  let  off  now.  Can't  you  get  it,  some 
way,  out  of  Simons;  you  got  a  good  chance  on  his  cat- 
tle," cunningly  insinuated  the  man, — "you  work  his 
cattle  driving  for  him,  sometimes,  don't  you?  I've  no 
cause,  myself,  to  love  Simons,  any  more  than  anybody 
else  has — he's  a  scoundrel.  God  knows!"  said  the 
speaker  apparently  giving  but  scant  attention  to  the  pre- 
sumed unimportance  of  his  present  companion,  and  los- 
ing for  an  instant  an  attribute  of  disguise  in  voice  and 
manner;  "he  has  done  for  me,  together  with  what  I  owe 
them  at  Washington."  The  man  stopped  suddenly, 
when  a  peal  of  thunder  and  a  flash  of  lightning  gave 
token  of  the  coming  tempest.  The  robber  stood  un- 
moved. The  coarse,  country  dialect,  evidently  assumed 
for  a  purpose  of  concealment  of  his  real  identity,  had 
entirely  disappeared.  He  looked  quickly  and  suspi- 
ciously at  Bolers.  Seemingly  satisfied  that  the  duller  in- 
tellect of  the  subject  of  his  designs  had  apprehended 
nothing  unusual  from  the  conclusion  of  his  speech,  he 
remained  silent.  He  had  apparently  quite  forgotten,  for 
the  moment,  the  presence  of  his  second  criminal  asso- 
ciate. The  latter  looked  quickly  at  the  outlaw  leader, 
but  said  nothing. 

"Couldn't  git  nary  out  o'  Simons,  lest  I  forged  him," 
returned  Nance's  brother. 

"Lest  ye  what?"  asked  Black  Hank. 

"Forged — forged  his  name,"  replied  Tom. 

' '  Kin  ye  forge  ? ' '  queried  Hank,  while  his  tones  rang 
true,  once  rbore,  with  the  accents  of  the  soil. 

"I  done  some  uv  it,"  rejoined  Bolers  sheepishly. 


WHERE  THIEVES  FELL  OUT.  ■■^^}. 

"Do  it  ag'in,"  said  the  robber.  "Ain't  thet  so,  Hen, 
— doitag'in?" 

"Shore — sart'in,"  said  Hen. 

"I  dunno — it's  putty  risky,"  objected  Tom.  "Never 
done  much  at  it,  'cept  ter  practice. ' ' 

"Simons  uz  got  more'n  he  ought  to  have,  anyway," 
insisted  the  tempter;  "ain't  he,  Hen?" 

"Shore,"  said  Hen. 

"Yes,  he's  mighty  rich,"  was  the  prospective  accom- 
plice's hesitating  rejoinder. 

"You're  a  fool  if  you  don't  tap  him,  that's  all," 
growled  Hank.  ' '  You  're  most  as  bad  as  any  of  us ;  you 
might  as  well  go  the  hull  hog  er  none.    Eh,  Hen  ? ' ' 

"Sart'in,"  said  Hen. 

"Will  you  let  me  in  on  everything,  if  I  do?"  queried 
the  timid  and  hesitating  neophyte. 

"Shore  an'  sart'in,"  replied  the  chief  and  lieuten- 
ant in  unison. 

The  storm  that  had  been  muttering  so  long,  here  at 
last  broke,  descending  upon  the  devoted  trio  in  a  hurri- 
cane of  wind,  floods  of  furious  rain,  dazzling  and  terri- 
fying lightning  and  deafening  crash  of  bellowing  thun- 
der.   Together  with  this,  night  was  upon  them. 

"The  hut's  off  the  road,  there,"  shouted  Hen,  and 
the  three  men  broke  into  a  run. 

With  difficulty,  after  leaving  the  road,  they  made 
their  way  through  a  piece  of  wood,  until  panting  and 
drenched  they  found  themselves  at  a  small,  rude  cabin  in 
a  little  clearing  in  the  midst  of  forest  trees.  The  out- 
laws were  evidently  familiar  enough  with  the  locality 
and  the  crude  shelter  they  sought,  and  unhesitatingly 
the  chief  of  the  miscreants  pushed  open  the  door  of  the 
hut  and  entered.    He  was  quickly  followed  by  the  others. 

Here,  at  least,  was  protection  from  the  raging  ele- 
ments without;  and  no  time  was  lost  in  adapting  their 


•jog  ;:  .'     :       THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

needs  to  the  circumstances  of  the  place.  A  light  was 
struck,  and  an  old  oil  lamp  was  soon  smoking  its  murky 
illumination  on  a  battered  table  in  the  center  of  the  one 
small  room  of  which  the  cabin  consisted.  The  place, 
constructed  in  the  most  primitive  style  of  rough,  unhewn 
logs,  had  evidently,  as  a  law  abiding  abode,  long  been 
uninhabited;  and,  doubtless,  was  now  being  used  exclu- 
sively by  the  outlaws  as  a  rendezvous  for  their  nefarious 
doings. 

"There,"  growled  the  outlaw  leader,  like  a  huge  dog 
shaking  the  rain  from  his  drenched  and  saturated  cloth- 
ing. He  took  his  hat  from  his  head  and  threw  the  water 
off  it.    "Sit  down,  you  fellers,"  he  said. 

The  others  shook  the  rain  from  themselves. 

A  dilapidated  chair  and  a  rough  bench  were  dragged 
to  the  table. 

"Now,"  directed  Black  Hank,  as  the  storm  beat  out- 
side, "you  git  that  'air  paper  ready  that'll  fetch  the 
money  on  Simons '  name, ' '  and  the  outlaw  motioned  Tom 
Bolers  to  the  table.  "Here's  some  blank  checks,  and 
here's  his  name  on  a  letter  I  found."  The  freebooter 
coolly  took  a  letter  from  his  own  pocket,  indifferently 
tore  away  the  signature  at  the  end  and  handed  the  fatal 
name  to  the  intended  forger. 

Already  having  the  appearance  of  being  singularly 
prepared  for  an  event  which  manifestly  had  been  wholly 
unforeseen  by  the  lawless  leader,  Black  Hank  sought  for 
and  obtained  from  a  hidden  recess  in  the  cabin  a  supply 
of  ink  and  a  pen.  These  articles  he  placed  upon  the 
table,  at  which  the  three  seated  themselves;  and,  by  the 
light  of  the  flaring  lamp,  while  the  thunder  rent  and 
tore  and  the  dizzy,  jagged  lightning  shot  and  fired  the 
air  of  the  forest  and  the  night  without,  the  two  outlaws 
sat  and  grimly  watched  Tom  Bolers  laboriously  but  suc- 
cessfully commit  a  forgery  of  Brad  Simons'  signature. 


WHERE  THIEVES  FELL  OUT.  103 

As  the  sinister  and  baleful  act  was  accomplished,  the 
hearing  of  the  darkling  and  stealthy  operators  was  sud- 
denly shattered  and  paralyzed  by  a  deafening,  ear  split- 
ting crash  and  roar,  and  through  the  narrow  glass  win- 
dow of  the  hut  came  a  blinding  flash  of  lightning.  The 
little  group  of  criminals  sprang  involuntarily  to  the 
door.  Black  Hank  impulsively  threw  it  open.  Before 
the  entrance  there  lay,  broken,  twisted,  riven — as  if 
thro^\^l  down  by  the  hand  of  some  giant  of  the  tempest — 
a  mighty  oak — a  monarch  laid  low,  in  his  native  wilds — 
and  covering,  with  bewildering  and  direful  confusion, 
half  of  the  little  clearing  in  which  the  startled,  schem- 
ing and  unworthy  triumvirate  stood. 

And  the  imps  and  spirit  of  the  storm  and  tempest, 
abroad  in  the  thick,  dense  growth  and  night 's  black  dark- 
ness of  the  forest  wilderness,  leaped  and  rioted  and 
romped  above  and  around  the  havoc  they  had  wrought. 

It  was,  perhaps,  Tom  Bolers'  first  real  criminal  of- 
fense— certainly  he  had  never  as  yet  been  detected  in 
flagrant  crime ;  and  the  unsuspicious  banker  to  whom,  in 
due  course,  the  forged  check  was  presented,  knowing  of 
Tom's  general  connection  with  Simons  in  the  latter 's  cat- 
tle interest,  paid  the  money  readily  enough.  Although 
Brad  learned  at  once  of  the  unpleasant  liberty  taken 
with  his  bank  account,  for  some  reason  he  kept  the  affair 
quiet  until  speedily  brought  alone  to  the  attention  of 
John  Braddock  by  the  cattleman  himself.  John  in- 
stantly offered,  for  the  sake  of  his  wife,  Tom's  sister,  to 
make  good  Brad's  loss,  if  Brad  in  his  turn  would  drop 
the  criminal  prosecution  of  John's  brother  in  law.  Now, 
it  was  right  here  that  Simons  first  began  secretly  and 
craftily  to  develope  a  formidable  and  treacherous  design 
upon  the  peace  and  welfare  of  De  Braddock  and  De 
Braddock 's   brother.     Cordially  pretending   to   receive 


104  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

John  Braddoek's  amicable  proposals  in  good  faith,  he 
set  to  work  to  accomplish  that  which  he  had  in  view. 

Tom  Bolers'  low  order  of  intelligence  and  almost 
total  lack  of  general  moral  perception  had  caused  him 
to  realize  little  if  anything  of  the  necessity  of  flight  or 
escape ;  and,  while  Simons  for  his  own  purposes  left  him 
at  large,  Tom  was  still  to  bear  the  measure  of  his  own 
responsibility  and  offense. 

There  was  a  meeting  between  John  Braddock  and 
Tom  Bolers  of  a  stormy  and  protracted  nature. 

"For  your  sister's  sake,  Tom,— for  your  sister's 
sake,"  John  eventually  said,  "I  cannot  see  you  go  to 
the  penitentiary.  I  am  not  a  man  of  large  means,  as  you 
know.    Simons,  however,  will  have  to  be  paid. ' ' 

Tom  Bolers  looked  at  his  brother  in  law  with  a  hang- 
dog expression.  "There's  that  property  uv  mine  in 
court,"  rejoined  Nance's  brother.  "'Tain't  settled  yit, 
and  'tain't  much,  but  's  'nuff " 

"I've  thought  of  that,"  quickly  interrupted  the 
other;  "and  I  will  give  my  note  to  Brad;  and  you  can 
pay,  if  you  Mdn  your  case, ' ' 

Nance's  husband  returned  to  Brad  Simons;  and,  with 
a  sense  of  the  delicacy  and  concern  which  always  in- 
spired the  country  merchant  when  he  thought  of  the 
interests  and  welfare  of  Nance,  opened  negotiations  with 
the  defrauded  though  wily  cattle  dealer. 

"Brad,"  said  he,  handing  the  former  a  duly  executed 
note  for  the  amount  of  Tom 's  forgery,  ' '  I  want  this  mat- 
ter to  stop  right  here.  You  understand,  of  course?" 
Braddoek's  manner  was  determined  and  uncompromis- 
ing. To  him,  there  could  be  but  one  settlement.  For  a 
moment,  he  was  able  to  hold  Simons  closely  fixed  with 
his  eyes. 

Brad  then  shifted  his  own  look  from  the  other  man's 
direct,  strong  gaze. 


WHERE  THIEVES  FELL  OUT.  105 

''Certainly,  certainly,"  responded  Simons  shiftily. 

"You  understand,"  persisted  Braddock;  "there  will 
be  no  prosecution." 

"Oh,  of  course  not,"  returned  the  other. 

"There  must  be  none,  on  account  of  my  wife,"  added 
Tom  Bolers'  earnest  and  determined  brother  in  law  de- 
cisively. 

Brad  Simons  appeared  to  reflect  for  a  moment,  and 
then  allowed  his  gaze,  withdrawn  for  an  instant,  to  re- 
turn, with  a  look  of  curious  scrutiny,  to  Braddock 's  set, 
immovable  countenance. 

"Oh,  yes;  on  account  of  your  wife.  To  be  sure," 
the  unscrupulous  cattleman  replied,  but  with  an  appear- 
ance of  preoccupation  and  insincerity  which  could  hardly 
impress  his  companion  reassuringly. 

"It's  understood,  is  it?"  urged  John  Braddock. 

"Perfectly,"  replied  Brad  Simons. 

And  it  was — by  Bradj  while,  hardly  satisfied,  John 
went  away. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


A  SEASONABLE  CONSPIRACY. 


It  happened  later  that  a  party  of  four  or  five  drovers, 
including  Tom  Bolers  and  loafing  in  Brad  Simons'  stable 
lot,  could  see  approaching  on  the  neighboring  road  the 
figure  of  a  man  riding  a  powerful  bay  horse. 

One  of  the  idlers,  with  an  evil  cast  in  his  eye  and 
other  marks  about  his  general  appearance  that  would 
have  turned  a  law  abiding  citizen  away  from  his  ^dcinity 
on  a  dark  night,  broke  a  silence  prevailing  among  the 
unsavory  crew  -wdth  the  remark: 

"Bolers,  there's  yer  man  a-comin'  up  ther  road, 
now." 

This  announcement  occasioned  Tom  Bolers  seated 
upon  a  log  to  lift  his  gaze  from  the  ground,  where  he  had 
previously  fixed  it  in  gloomy  silence. 

"Any  uv  your  darn  biz'ness,  ef  'e  is?"  growled 
Bolers  ill  conditionally. 

"Ye  all  fired  brute,  ye,"  retorted  the  first  speaker 
with  just  resentment,  "w'en  I  do  ye  a  favor,  ag'in,  ye 'II 
mos'  likely  know  it.  Ye  ought  ter  be  ducked  in  the  hoss 
trough,  there, — that 's  w  'at  ye  ought ;  an '  f er  half  a  cent 
I'd  do  it  fer  ye,"  and  Tom's  censor  eyed,  with  the  ap- 
pearance of  ominous  intention,  the  stable-yard  trough  at 
the  pump,  filled  with  water  for  the  stock. 

The  rider,  a  preliminary  view  of  whom  had  awakened 
this  interesting  passage,  now  reached  the  barnyard 
where  the  drovers  were  collected.  One  of  them  slouched 
up  and  opened  the  gate. 

"Hello,  Tom,"  genially  called  the  horseman  as  he 
entered  the  stable  yard,  and  catching  sight  of  Tom  Bolers 

106 


A  SEASONABLE  CONSPIRACY.  107 

sulking  on  the  log.  Brad  affected  to  smile  cordially  from 
horseback,  and  evidently  meant  to  be  agreeable. 

"Well,  you  sent  fur  me,  an'  I'm  here,"  responded 
John  Braddock's  brother  in  law,  sulkily  rising  to  his 
feet. 

"Here,  Bill,  put  this  horse  up,"  ordered  Brad  of  one 
of  his  drovers,  at  the  same  time  dismounting  and  toss- 
ing his  horse's  bridle  into  the  man's  outstretched  hand. 
"Tom,"  continued  the  cattle  raiser  pleasantly,  turning 
to  Bolers,  "come  into  the  house  with  me." 

Bradford  or,  as  he  was  commonly  called,  Brad  Simons 
was  a  trifle  past  forty  years  of  age.  His  face  of  florid 
complexion  was  round  and  smooth  and  but  for  something 
in  the  bright,  glancing  eyes  that  told  of  a  false  heart  it 
might  have  been  a  face-  entitled  to  a  certificate  of  unqual- 
ified good  nature.  His  hair  was  brown ;  his  figure  heavy 
though  not  fleshy,  giving  an  impression  of  shapelienss 
owing  to  good  physical  proportions.  He  vv'eighed  fully 
two  liuudred  pounds.  He  was  six  feet  in  height.  His 
dress  was  a  suit  of  snuff  color  which  had  come,  in  an 
habitual  style  of  attire  affected  by  the  cattleman,  to  fa- 
miliarly distinguish  Brad  Simons'  appearance  through- 
out that  region. 

Tom  Bolers'  age  was  twenty-four.  He  was  of  com- 
monplace appearance,  but  for  the  dark,  curling  hair  and 
not  ill  looking  face.  Any  impression  that  he  might  have 
made  upon  a  beholder,  however,  was  lost  in  an  indefin- 
able weakness  that  seemed  to  envelope  him  as  in  a  mist. 

When  Brad  Simons,  with  Tom,  entered  the  house, 
he  proceeded  directly  to  the  former's  private  room.  Tom 
Bolers'  conductor,  as  the  two  entered  the  apartment, 
closed  the  door  and  nodded  easily  to  a  chair,  at  the  same 
time  requesting  his  companion  to  be  seated.  The  room 
to  which  the  grazier  had  brought  his  visitor  was,  for  the 
use  of  one  whose  time  was  chiefly  occupied  in  raising  cat- 


108  THE   CAVERNS   OF   DAWN. 

tie,  unusually  well  stocked  with  books.  When  Tom  Bolers 
had  seated  himself,  Simons  himself  took  a  chair  and  at 
once  broached  his  object  in  bringing  this  meeting  about. 

"Tom,"  began  Brad  assuming  a  tone  of  real  or  af- 
fected kindness,  "you  know  how  your  brother  in  law 
Jolm  Braddock  has  befriended  you.  This  hardly  needs 
comment;  but  I  will  say,  nevertheless,"  went  on  the 
speaker  weighing  his  words  carefully  and  speaking  wdth 
a  peculiar  emphasis,  "that  he  has  shown  a  deep  and 
worthy  interest  in  you  as  the  brother  of  his  wife  and, 
from  my  knowledge  of  him,  would  go  to  much  greater 
lengths  for  your  sister's  sake  to  save  you  from  the  con- 
sequences of  this  crime.  I  have  not  been  able,  Tom,  as 
yet  to  finally  see  my  way,"  pursued  Brad  Simons  with 
an  edifying  appearance  of  public  virtue,  "as  a  citizen 
to  abandon  prosecution  of  your  error;  but,"  added  the 
man  quickly,  perceiving  the  cloud  of  genuine  apprehen- 
sion and  terror  deepening  on  Tom 's  face,  ' '  I  could,  in  all 
probability,  let  you  off — upon  certain  conditions. ' '  Here 
the  stockman  paused  and  watched  his  victim  who,  with 
his  hands  clasped  and  his  elbows  resting  upon  his  knees, 
sat  gazing  intently  at  the  floor. 

Without  raising  his  eyes  Tom  Bolers  asked,  in  a 
mechanical  way  colored  by  the  general  air  of  hopeless- 
ness which  seemed  natural  with  him : 

"Wliat  is  it  ye  want  uv  me?  Say  it  and  don't  play 
with  a  feller,  like  a  cat  with  a  mouse." 

Simons  laughed  lightly,  and  said: 

"Why,  you  see,  Tom,  I  don't  mind  telling  you: — 
I'm  a  little  sweet  on  your  brother  in  law's  sister  De,  and 
would  like  to  marry  and  get  out  of  this  plagued,  lonely 
bachelor  life,"  and  he  spoke  with  a  touch  of  something 
like  real  feeling.  "I  am  informed,  however,"  the  man 
went  on,  "that  there  is  another — person,"  he  uttered 
the  word  "person"  as  though  this  portion  of  his  com- 


A  SEASONABLE  CONSPIRACY.  109 

munication  was  the  most  distasteful  part  of  his  task, — 
"a  writer — a  one  armed  soldier,  I  believe;  well,  he  has 
some  headway  Avith  ]\Iiss  Braddock  and,"  wound  up 
Brad  speciously,  " I'll  have  to  have  a  little  help. ' ' 

"Go  on,"  said  Tom  without  changing  his  position, 
his  elbows  on  his  knees  and  his  eyes  fixed  in  moody  con- 
templation upon  his  inquisitor's  heavy  riding  boots 
planted,  upon  their  owner's  feet,  implacably  on  the 
floor  before  Tom  Bolers'  restless  and  harried  eyes. 

"As  I  have  said,"  continued  the  faithless  dealer  in 
cattle,  "I  am  aware  of  the  high  place  your  own  sister 
Nance  holds,  as  his  wife,  in  your  brother  in  law's  affec- 
tions, and  that  it  would  hurt  her  for  you  to  come  to  harm 
of  any  kind  that  might  be  avoided.  Now,  Tom,  make 
John  understand  that  I  can  be  depended  on  to  call  off 
the  prosecution,  if  he  will  help  me  to  his  sister,  and  you 
and  I  can  call  quits. ' ' 

The  cattleman's  alluring  and  fragrant  roses  were 
plentifully  studded  and  bedecked  with  thorns  of  a  pe- 
culiar and  piercing  sharpness.  Brad  Simons,  in  this 
adroit  and  cunning  speech,  well  knew  the  torture  it 
would  be  to  Nance  Braddock,  a  naturally  high  minded 
girl,  to  have  her  own  name  and  that  of  her  husband  John 
Braddock  dragged  before  the  public  and  the  wretched 
past,  as  by  association,  revived  by  her  brother's  prosecu- 
tion for  forgery;  and  he,  also,  knew  John  Braddock 's 
unwillingness  to  permit  her  to  suffer  so. 

Tom  Bolers,  when  Brad  Simons  concluded,  replied, 
still  without  lifting  his  eyes,  though  addressing  his  em- 
ployer with  a  show  of  respect : 

"You  know  's  well  's  I  do,  Mr.  Simons,  'at  /  don't 
care  'f  ye  marry  De  Braddock  er  the  Queen  uv  England, 
but  yer  goin'  ter  have  trouble  'bout  doin'  it,"  Tom's  re- 
mark being  obscured  with  some  doubt  whether  the  diffi- 
culty referred  to  regarded  a  matrimonial  design  upon  the 


110  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

heroine  of  our  story  or  the  then  ruler  of  the  right  and 
tight  little  British  Isle;  but  Brad  understood  and,  here, 
mercilessly  though  smilingly  rejoined : 

"You  wouldn't  like  to  go  to  the  penitentiary,  Tom, 
would  you  ?  Look  here,  now, — come !  You  see  what  you 
can  do  with  John  Braddock.  You'll'  either  make  him 
understand  that  his  wife's  brother  will  take  a  trip  up 
the  road,"  pursued  Tom's  inexorable  taskmaster  signif- 
icantly, "or  I  must  have  his  sister,"  and  it  would  have 
been  attended  with  some  trouble  to  determine  which 
would  have  been  the  least  acceptable  to  John. 

The  alternative  in  all  this  harangue  of  Brad  Simons 
was  but  too  plain  to  the  overburdened  and  oppressed 
mind  of  the  unhappy  forger,  who  viewed  with  but  little 
consolation  the  results  which  he  knew  Avould  come  of  an 
appeal  to  John  Braddock 's  influence  with  John's  sister 
De  in  favor  of  the  cattle  dealer.  Tom  groaned  in  spirit. 
"Them's  hard  conditions,  Mr.  Simons,"  he  said 
presently,  shifting  in  his  chair. 

"Take  them,  or  leave  them,"  retorted  the  merciless 
and  relentless  cattleman,  preserving  an  air  of  politeness 
which  he  had,  up  to  this  time,  adopted  with  some  show  of 
cordiality  towards  his  unfortunate  victim,  but  now  per- 
mitting a  note  of  ominous  intimidation  to  creep  into  his 
cold,  searching  voice. 

"I'll  do,  sir,  the  best  I  can  to  help  ye,"  muttered 
Nance  Bolers'  distressed  and  unhappy  brother  hope- 
lessly. 

"That,"  rejoined  Simons  immovably,  "is  about  all 
any  of  us  can  do,"  and,  in  the  cheerful  shadow  of  the 
walls  of  the  state's  comfortable  and  alluring  home  for 
playful  and  sportive  breakers  of  the  law,  the  wretched 
and  ensnared  kinsman  of  John  Braddock 's  wife  crept 
sullenly  out  of  the  tricky  and  dishonorable  cattle  mer- 
chant's harsh  and  repellent  presence. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


AN   AGGRAVATED  AND   DEADLY   THREAT. 

A  man,  at  the  close  of  day,  was  footing  it  briskly 
along  the  sidewalk  of  a  thriving  Indiana  town.  From 
the  direction  opposite  to  that  which  he  was  pursuing, 
there  hurried  a  child.  The  late  cloudy  summer  after- 
noon was  beginning  to  blend  into  the  first  shadows  of 
the  evening,  and  the  thick  shade  of  the  foliage  of  trees 
lining  the  walk  east  the  two  figures  into  something  like 
indistinctness.  As  they  neared  each  other  it  was  evident 
that  the  child,  a  little  girl,  was  influenced  by  some  strong 
and  intense  excitement.  As  she  caught  sight  of  the  man, 
she  sped  on  until  her  rapid  gait  became  a  run,  and  pant- 
ing she  reached  the  object  of  her  haste. 

"Oh!  papa,"  gasped  the  child. 

The  person  so  addressed  had  halted  in  consternation 
upon  recognizing  the  disordered  little  figure. 

' '  Nanny ! "  he  exclaimed. 

"Hurry,  hurry,"  was  all  the  little  one  could  say. 

"What  is  the  matter?    Tell  me,"  said  her  father. 

"Mama — "  panted  the  child. 

' '  Nanny,  do  you  hear  me  !  what  is  the  matter  ? ' ' 

"Mama — a  man  I — she  sent  me  to  find  you." 

"Come,"  said  the  elder,  seeing  he  could  get  no  con- 
nected utterance,  and  hurrying  on  to  his  home  not  far 
distant. 

As  John  Braddoek — we  are  follo^^•ing  De's  brother 
— neared  his  dwelling,  he  perceived  his  wife  standing  in 
the  doorway.    Facing  her  in  the  path  leading  from  the 

111 


112  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

gate  to  the  door,  there  loafed  a  fellow  of  rough,  ill  fa- 
vored appearance.  As  the  hurrying  man  approached, 
the  woman  cried : 

"John,  this  man  has  insulted  me." 

Braddock  hastily  threw  open  the  gate  and  stepped 
into  the  yard.  He  advanced,  threateningly,  as  his  wife's 
insulter  turned. 

"Be  off,"  commanded  Braddock. 

The  intruder  smiled  foolishly. 

"Well,  Mr.  John  Braddock,"  he  retorted,  letting  his 
glance  drop  before  the  blazing  eyes  of  the  incensed  hus- 
band, ' '  I  don 't  know  ez  you,  er  yer  vnte,  be  so  pow  'rf ul 
T)ove  folks,"  a  nameless  slur  pervaded  the  man's  tones — 
a  slur  there  was  no  mistaking. 

Braddock  had  been  tolerant  of  the  conditions  that 
his  mfe's  past  had  put  upon  a  just  and  generous  soul, 
in  the  government  of  his  own  conduct  to  such  flickerings 
of  the  conventional  ^dew  as  his  way  might  be  beset  ^vith. 
He  had  deemed  it  wisest  to  ignore  the  ordinary  sneer 
with  which  justly  or  unjustly  the  path  of  the  fallen  is 
prickled.  Yet  there  could  be  no  middle  course,  here; 
and  the  surge  of  passion  welling  up  ^^^tllin  the  breast 
of  Nance's  husband  was  such  that  other  and  even  better 
men  than  John  Braddock  have  been  swept  away  by  it — ■ 
the  passion  of  incensed  and  indignant  rage  against  the 
defiler  of  the  atmosphere  of  home. 

"See  here,"  said  Braddock  in  a  tone  of  studied  self 
repression  and  grasping  the  other's  shoulder, — when  the 
trespasser  threw  off  the  hold. 

"Oh,  I  knew  your  wile;  what  wuz  she?"  was  the 
fellow's  coarse  and  unfeeling  retort. 

At  this  John  grew  livid.  There  was  a  large,  red- 
painted  iron  vase  holding  earth  and  flowers  standing 
near  and,  being  a  powerful,  muscular  man  from  his  early 
farm  training,  he  tore  this  from  the  ground  with  a  single 


A  DEADLY  THREAT.  113 

wrench  and  s^nmg  it  to  one  side  as  if  it  had  been  an  In- 
dian club. 

"John!"  screamed  Nance.  "Go — go — he'll  kill 
you,"  she  shrieked,  appalled  at  the  fearful  look  upon 
her  husband's  distorted  and  passion  inflamed  counte- 
nance, and  endeavoring,  by  wild  and  excited  gestures, 
to  drive  the  threatened  and  miserable  man  away. 

John  Braddock  heard  his  wife's  agonized  screams, 
and  quickly  remembered  himself.  He  at  once  quietly 
put  the  vase  down. 

"Zeke  Smithin,"  he  said  steadily,  "if  I  ever  catch 
you  here  again,  I  shall  kill  you. ' ' 

"Rough  words,  like  chickens,  Mr.  John  Braddock, 
come  home  to  roost,  said  Ezekiel  Smithin  as  he  moved  off 
sulky  and  whipped. 

"No  trouble,  I  hope,"  called  a  voice  from  the  gate, 
and  the  brother  of  De  Braddock  saw  Brad  Simons  stand- 
ing on  the  walk  without,  where,  unnoticed,  he  had  been 
a  witness  of  the  recent  scene. 

' '  No, ' '  replied  John  Braddock,  none  too  well  pleased 
at  having  an  affair  of  this  kind  observed  by  another  and 
that  other,  Brad  Simons. 

And  Simons  proceeded  on  his  way,  with  this  fateful 
link  of  memory  to  supply,  one  day,  a  completer  chain  of 
poor  John's  troubles. 

Nance  Braddock  was  a  woman  of  handsome  face  and 
form.  Her  dress  was  in  the  old  style,  with  ^vide  collar 
and  flowing  sleeves  and  of  a  red  material  which  con- 
trasted effectively  the  dark  hair  and  brunette,  Gipsy  like 
features  of  its  owner.  Plain,  old  fashioned  drop  ear- 
rings and,  at  the  throat,  a  gold  rimmed  brooch,  in  which 
was  a  miniature  of  John,  further  picturesquely  added  to 
her  costume. 

John  Braddock,  in  a  general  merchandise  store,  by 
hard  w^ork  and  close  application  had  become  a  partner, 


114  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

where  beginning  as  a  clerk  and  bookkeeper.  He  pos- 
sessed the  rich,  olive  complexion  characteristic  of  a  part 
of  his  family;  a  strong  Roman  nose;  a  face  inclined  to 
be  rugged  and  bony,  like  that  of  his  father  Uncle  Peter 
Braddock,  and  wore  a  long  mustache  matching  in  color 
his  heavy,  dark,  waving  hair.  He  was  of  a  tall,  well  de- 
veloped figure,  neatly  dressed  in  clothing  of  a  gray  mix- 
ture and  presented,  all  in  all,  the  active  appearance  of 
a  prosperous  and  well  to  do  man  of  country  business. 

John  Braddock,  wisely  ignoring  further  reference  to 
the  occurrences  that  had  just  transpired,  made  his  way 
to  the  house.    His  wife  followed. 

"John,"  said  Nance,  "Tom  is  here."  There  was, 
in  the  woman's  humble  tones,  an  apology  filled  with  a 
sense  of  the  relation  that  this  subject  of  her  brother  Tom 
bore  to  the  patience,  the  good  nature  and  tolerant  wis- 
dom of  her  beset  and  much  tried  husband. 
"Why  did  you  not  call  him  out,  when — ?" 
"When  that  man  insulted  me?"  Nance  glanced 
hastily  at  her  husband.  "Tom  has  already  gotten  him- 
self in  a  bad  enough  fix.  I  thought  you  could  not  be 
far  off." 

"Well,  well,"  replied  the  country  trader  kindly,  "we 
must  make  the  best  of  poor  Tom,  as  we  try  to  do  of  every- 
thing— I  know  how  you  feel.    Where  is  he,  Nanny  ? ' ' 

"In  the  parlor,"  rejoined  Nance  in  a  subdued  voice. 
"John,"  here  exclaimed  the  woman  impulsively,  and 
giving  rein  to  her  feelings,  "you  are,  I  believe,  the  best 
man  in  the  world.  Yes,  you  are,"  insisted  the  moved 
woman,  when  her  husband  made  as  if  to  protest,  and 
throwing  her  arms  around  his  neck, — "I  know  you  are." 
"Nonsense,  Nancy,  the  shoe's  on  the  other  foot. 
There,  there,  don't  give  way,"  said  her  husband  paci- 
fyingly,  for  Nance  was  sobbing  on  the  breast  of  the  de- 
voted man  who  held  her  in  his  arms.     "Come,  Nanny, 


A  DEADLY  THREAT.  115 

I'll  see  Tom,  at  once, — there !"  and  John  kissed  away  his 
wife's  tears,  and  proceeded  to  inter\dew  his  wife's  incor- 
rigible brother. 

As  John  Braddock  entered  the  room  which  Nance 
had  indicated  as  being  occupied  by  Tom  Bolers,  he  per- 
ceived the  object  of  his  quest  seated  in  an  attitute  of  pro- 
found dejection  and  despair;  and,  with  head  sunk  upon 
his  breast,  waiting  for  his  sister's  husband  to  open  the 
trying  interview. 

This  John  immediately  did,  though  kindly. 

"Tom,"  said  the  business  man  as  he  entered  the 
room,  "what  now?  I  thought  we  had  arranged  our 
affairs  as  satisfactory  as  was  possible,  when  we  last 
discussed  them.  What  new  troubles  have  brought  you 
back  to  me?" 

"Why,  ye  see,"  responded  Bolers  spurred  by  the 
recollection  of  his  late  meeting  with  Brad  Simons  and 
evincing  some  tact,  while  it  was  evident  he  had  no  share 
of  the  limited  culture  which  his  sister  possessed,  ' '  I  come 
down  ter  talk  over  a'  idee  that  jes'  happened  lately  ter 
come  inter  my  head  about  this  Brad  Simons  biz'ness.  I 
thought,  maybe,"  continued  the  man  moistening  his  lips 
and  hesitating,  and  then  proceeding  abruptly  as  if  to 
overcome  any  lurking  irresolution, — "I  thought  as  how 
Brad  Simons  might  be  fetched  to  let  up  wethout  that 
note  er  nothin'." 

"All  right,  Tom,  let's  hear,"  said  the  other  still 
kindly,  although  eying  his  unpromising  brother  in  law 
narrowly  and  keenly.  ' '  Out  with  it, ' '  added  the  speaker 
perceiving  his  visitor,  once  more,  hesitate.  "Though  I 
tell  you,  plainly.  Brad  must  be  paid." 

"Ye  know,"  went  on  Tom  thus  directed,  "Brad  's — 
w-ell,  ye  know,  he's  rich — made  it,  himself — jes'  like 
you've  bin  gittin'  on,  though  ye  ain't  got  ez  much,  an' — 


116  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

truth  is,  ye  know  's  well  as  me,  he's  mighty  sot  on  yer 
sister — " 

"Tom,"  said  John  Braddock,  soberly  interrupting 
the  anxious  and  hurried  speaker,  and  yet  preserving, 
in  recollection  of  Nance,  an  air  of  consideration, — while 
he  spoke  with  far  greater  force  than  he  had,  heretofore, 
employed,  "you  must  not  bring  my  sister  into  this,  I 
cannot  understand  why  you  come  to  me,  again — Simons 
and  I  settled  the  matter." 

Tom  Bolers,  who  knew  more  of  the  amiable  work- 
ings of  Mr.  Simons'  secret  mind  than  the  other  could, 
was  perforce  obliged  to  maintain  a  silence  under  the 
merchant's  hopeful  observations.  He  shifted  restlessly 
in  his  chair,  however,  and,  by  other  outward  and  visible 
signs,  gave  evidence  of  a  mind  inwardly  and  spiritually 
ill  at  ease. 

Braddock  looked  with  quick  suspicion  at  his  com- 
panion. 

Simons  has  broken  his  promise  to  me,  has  he?"  said 
Tom  Bolers'  brother  in  law. 

Bolers  nodded  his  head. 

John  Braddock  thought  rapidly.  He  knew  of  De's 
aversion  to  Simons.  Nevertheless,  she  and  the  family 
might  without  harm  have  some  influence  with  him. 

"I'll  tell  you,  Tom,  what  I'll  do,"  gravely  proposed 
the  country  business  man,  after  a  weighty  pause ;  "  I  '11 
write  my  folks  and  have  them  say  a  good  word  for  you 
with  Brad, — but  that's  all;  and  that's  all  that's  pos- 
sible." 

This  was  something,  though  Tom  was  shrewd  enough 
to  know  it  was  little;  but  with  this  Tom  Bolers  was 
obliged  to  content  himself  or  rather,  in  view  of  the  char- 
acter of  satisfaction  afforded  him  by  Simons'  recent 
cheerful  references  to  the  penitentiary,  it  may  be  more 
accurately  stated  that,  with  John  Braddock 's  conclud- 


A  DEADLY  THREAT.  117 

ing  expressions,  Tom  Bolers  was  forced  to  discontent 
himself. 

It  was  thus  the  letter  handed  ]\Iother  Braddock,  by- 
Bob  Likkum,  was  inspired  and  written. 

The  door  of  the  room,  in  which  Nance's  husband  and 
brother  were  holding  their  consultation,  opened  as  Mr. 
Braddock  uttered  his  final  words,  and  a  little  head  of 
dark,  irregularly  tossed  hair  thrust  itself  within  the 
apartment. 

"Papa,"  said  the  child  Nanny,  "mama  says  tell  you 
supper's  ready." 

The  father,  in  his  chair,  partly  turned,  with  a 
bright  smile. 

"You  talking  about  that  old  Brad  Simons?"  ex- 
claimed the  child.  ' '  I  just  hate  him.  He 's  a  bad,  wicked 
man." 

When  Tom  Bolers  left  John  Braddock 's  house  he  met 
Zeke  Swithin,  whom  John  had  threatened  to  kill,  and 
Zeke,  with  an  oath,  scowled  at  Bolers  and  said,  "that 
he'd  make  the  words  John  Braddock  had  used  ag'in' 
him,  afore  his  wife  that  day,  the  cause  of  bringing  Mr. 
John  Braddock  down. ' ' 

And,  one  day,  it  so  fell  out. 

And  Rachel  Bolers  and  Brad  Simons  and  Jason  Jump 
danced,  with  the  other  merry,  merry  phantom  shapes, 
gleefully  around,  around  in  the  gay  and  lightsome 
frolic. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


A  POLITICAL  VISITATION;   AND  A   BANK  EOBBERY. 

Simons'  naturally  evil  and  infirm  temperament  did 
not  leave  him  long  at  rest,  after  he  had  jdelded  to  Jason 
Jump's  urgent  insistence  that  Mrs.  Walker  and  her 
daughter  be  extricated  from  the  objectionable  clutches 
of  Swarth  Blazes,  at  Washington;  and,  in  spite  of  the 
continued  devotion  of  the  cattleman  to  the  beautiful  per- 
son and  character  of  De  Braddock,  led  away  by  the  be- 
wildering beauty  of  IMona's  gold-bronze  locks  and  the 
other  attractions  of  her  fascinating  person  Brad  soon 
began  to  show  a  questionable  partiality  for  Mona 
Walker. 

By  adroit  and  apparently  well  meaning  arrangements 
and  assurances,  it  was  not  long  before  he  had  Mona's 
mother  consent,  in  the  capacity  of  housekeeper,  to  take 
charge  of  his  home  which,  by  death  of  parents,  had  been 
left  to  his  keeping  in  bachelorhood. 

The  daughter,  for  a  while,  was  enabled  to  teach 
school,  under  Brad's  agreement  with  Jump  to  secure  for 
her  reputable  employment;  and  Mona,  of  course,  lived 
with  her  mother  at  Simons '  place. 

But  death  winnows  the  harvest;  and  Mona's  mother 
was  selected  by  the  hand  of  the  wdnnower  to  leave  the 
grain  here  and  add  to  the  seed  of  hereafter. 

When  the  mother  died,  the  daughter  gave  herself  up 
to  unrestrained  grief;  and,  after  her  first  deeper  sorrow 
had  subsided,  was  soothingly  urged,  by  Brad  Simons,  to 
take  the  place  of  her  mother  in  the  care  of  his  domestic 
establishment. 

118 


A  POLITICAL  VISITATION;   ROBBERY.    119 

This,  at  first,  she,  of  course,  positively  refused  to  do. 
She  was  supporting  herself  in  comfort,  by  teaching. 
Brad  pressed  his  request,  offering  a  handsome  increase 
in  salary  over  that  which  she  received  as  a  teacher.  She 
still  held  out  against  his  inducements.  Finally,  being 
alone  in  the  world  and  without  other  home,  at  the  time, 
than  that  in  which  she  and  her  mother  had  lived  with  the 
cattle  merchant,  IMona  was  persuaded  to  listen  to  a  pro- 
posal, on  Brad's  part,  to  marry  her  at  a  future  day.  So 
determined  had  Simons  become  in  an  unscrupulous  and 
unworthy  design  upon  the  lonely  young  woman  (he  had 
not  abandoned  his  pursuit  of  De  Braddock),  that  he  was 
brought  to  sign  a  marriage  agreement  with  IMona 
Walker,  thinking  to  adjust  with  money  his  wrong  to  the 
girl,  after  proposed  betrayal  of  his  intended  dupe.  The 
written  understanding,  which  afterward  played  so 
marked  a  part  in  the  life  of  Brad  Simons,  was  voluntari- 
ly proposed,  by  Brad  himself,  at  a  critical  time  v,-hen  he 
saw  his  victim  wavering.  It  was  entered  into  in  all  good 
faith  by  the  innocent  and  motherless  girl ;  who,  however, 
to  the  end — in  her  somewhat  isolated  position — remained 
unaffected  by  the  dishonorable  and  treacherous  purposes 
of  the  base  and  unworthy  schemer. 

In  this  general  and  varied  situation  of  the  drama  and 
its  relative  emotions,  Swarth  Blazes  happened  by  the 
grace  of  politics,  to  visit  Indiana. 

Mr.  Blazes  does  not  continue  with  us  to  the  end  of  our 
performance ;  and  hence  his  brief  and  final  appearance, 
in  the  near  future,  shall  be  presented  as  effectively  as 
possible. 

The  interstate  relations  existing  between  political 
parties  had  caused  those  of  Mr.  Blazes'  faith  to  invite 
Mr.  Blazes  to  come  from  his  nearby  state  to  take  part  in 
the  campaign  interests  of  the  Hoosiers;  and  the  Honor- 
able Swarth,  much  to  his  surprise  and  confusion,  found 


120  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

himself,  one  day,  face  to  face  with  Jason  Jump,  to  whose 
meritorious  and  praiseworthy  efforts  j\Iona  Walker,  now 
in  charge  of  Mr.  Simons'  domestic  establishment,  owed 
her  present  immunity  from  the  advances  and  attentions 
of  Mr,  Blazes '  official  character,  at  Washington. 

It  is  asserted  by  those  familiar  with  the  affairs  of  the 
locality  treated  in  this  story,  that  the  ill  odored  and  evil 
organization,  of  which  these  pages  must  needs  take 
notice,  in  those  days  gradually  became  secretly  mixed  up 
with  general  interests  until,  at  last,  there  was  scarcely  a 
concern  that  was  not  affected  in  some  way  by  its  subtle, 
unscrupulous  and  fear  inspiring  schemes.  In  this  state 
of  things,  it  is  not  a  matter  of  surprise  that  politics 
should  have  become  involved  with  the  doings  of  Black 
Hank  and  his  band  of  outlaws. 

It  has  been  no  secret,  thus  far,  that  the  sinister  leader 
of  outlaws  has  presented,  behind  the  veil,  the  morally  de- 
faced and  distorted  features  of  Jason  Jump,  the  ruined 
congressional  claimant.  So  artful  and  successful  had  he 
been  in  his  identification  with  the  outlaws,  that  none 
other  save  Brad  Simons  knew  the  two  roles — Jason  Jump 
and  Black  Hank — to  be  performed  by  one  and  the  same 
actor. 

And  the  pity  of  it!  No  luminous  and  farreaching 
fields  of  martial  glory  and  of  conquest,  such  as,  in  revolu- 
tions of  people  against  injustice,  through  all  the  mighty 
ages  of  the  past  have  blazoned  the  dazzling  pages  of  the 
world's  history,  cast  their  glamor  and  their  light  over 
this  darkened  and  miserable  soul,  or  surrounded  its  pal- 
try and  sorrowful  deeds  with  the  acclaim  of  blaring 
trumpets,  of  rolling  drums  or  of  shouting  multitude.  The 
dense  and  callous  age  of  greedy  and  of  grasping  com- 
mercialism, where  the  clothman's  narrow  yard  stick  had 
superseded  the  more  brilliant  romance  of  brave  sentiment 
and  of  daring  and  gallant  chivalry,  left  nothing  for  the 


A  POLITICAL  VISITATION;  KOBBERY.     121 

unfortunate,  however  sadly  deluded  into  whatever  de- 
plorable course  of  life,  but  the  spectral  and  despairing 
possibility  of  subsistence.  Tiie  strong  arm  of  the  law  of 
the  new  Western  World  only  too  surely  held  in  check 
all  aim  at  the  chimerical  establishment  of  a  change  in 
social  system,  by  means  of  lav.less  violence  and  rebellion 
on  such  a  plane  of  general  revolt.  It  made  Jason  Jump 
look  small,  like  a  breathless  and  exhausted  bounty 
jumper  spent  with  flight;  a  poor  and  abandoned  deserter 
in  a  soiled  and  tattered  uniform;  a  hopeless  effigy  of  a 
would  be  and  undesirable  hero,  in  a  tortuous  way  across 
the  battlefield  of  human  existence. 

— Such,  too,  is  as  a  crevasse  in  the  vast  levee  which 
holds  in  the  mighty  stream  of  humanity, — the  little 
thread  of  water  that  trickles  over  the  dam, — the  forerun- 
ner of  some  vaster  movement  of  the  floods  that  will,  un- 
checked, yet  sweep  all  before  it. 

Is  it  not  better  to  repair  the  crevasse,  before  the  en- 
tire embankment  is  swept  away?  A  few  bags  of  unsel- 
fishness will  do  it. 

The  town  of  T ,  where  the  political  meeting  call- 
ing upon  Mr.  Blazes  was  to  take  place,  on  the  day  set  for 
the  old  fashioned  barbecue  began  early  to  fill  up  \Wth 
farmers  from  the  adjoining  farms.  The  miscellaneous 
population  of  a  country  region  swarmed  everywhere. 
The  street  fakir  from  abroad — who  plied  his  arts,  on  the 
corners,  and  sold  his  wonderful  wares  with  a  soap  box 
for  a  platform,  and  a  tripod  counter  over  which  to  dis- 
pense his  marvelous  humbugs,  and  beguiled  the  unwary 
into  testing  his  nostrums  and  using  his  whetstones — 
came  out  strongly  and  effectively. 

Forsooth !  Bob  Likkum,  with  Ann  ^lariah  at  his  side, 
bought  both  whetstone  and  attractive  bogus  drugs;  and, 
afterwards,  threw  both — but,  stay;  that  anticipates,  too 
soon,  Likkum 's  stirring  adventure.     There  was  to  be  an 


122  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

ox  roasted  whole;  and,  the  days  of  prohibition  not  hav- 
ing stifled  free  indulgence,  the  American  voter  did  not 
criticise  the  flood  of  liquid  inspiration  with  which  the 
feast  would  eventually  be  washed  do^-n.  It  was  a  jolly 
enough  crowd,  in  all  conscience,  for  an  oldtime,  hilari- 
ous, roistering  campaign  gathering. 

Zach  Stoner,  the  county  sheriff,  and  West  Flank, 
Uncle  Peter  Braddock  and  a  tailing  off  of  old  friends  and 
neighbors,  when  the  time  for  the  political  speeches  and 
addresses  had  arrived,  bore  down  upon  the  grounds 
where  the  "speakin'  "  was  to  be.  Mona  Walker,  vnth 
Parson  Woods  acting  as  a  species  of  escort,  mixed  mth 
the  crowd,  and  nodded  gratefully  to  Jason  Jump  whom, 
since  the  service  rendered  her  and  her  mother,  at  Wash- 
ington, she  had  scarcely  seen.  Jump  gazed  after  her 
trim,  pretty  figure  wistfully.  Some  ill  conditioned  yokel, 
in  the  motley  throng,  nudged  a  comrade  near  him,  as 
the  school  teacher  went  by,  and  made  a  remark  far  too 
strongly  colored  with  the  grosser  terms  of  admiration  of 
the  sex.  Here,  Bob  Likkura  demonstrated  the  uses  to 
which  both  medicines  and  whetstones  might  be  profitably 
put. 

"What  'd  you  say?"  said  Bob,  stopping  abruptly  in 
front  of  the  utterer  of  the  derogatory  speech. 

' '  You — ' '  and  the  man  finished  his  reply  to  Likkum  's 
inquiry  with  a  stream  of  unrepeatable  language. 

"I  guess  you  kin  take  this  medicine  fer  yer  morals," 
composedly  returned  Likkum,  "  an '  whet  yer  blunted  un- 
derstandin'  weth  this  here  whetstun',''  and  the  aston- 
ished and  reprimanded  blackguard,  without  warning  of 
what  was  coming,  caught  both  bottle  and  stone  squarely 
in  the  face.  "You  smart  Alecs,"  concluded  Bob,  "  '11 
leave  our  teachers  an'  wimmen  alone." 

Sheriff  Stoner  grabbed  the  unruly  spirit  M'ho  had 
provoked  Likkum 's  assault;  and  Bob,  whose  influence 


A  POLITICAL  VISITATION;  ROBBERY.     123 

politically  and  otherwise  was  considerable,  moved  on  un- 
molested, leaving  the  defeated  rowdy  to  summary  eject- 
ment from  the  grounds. 

Esau  wandered  up  to  an  oldtime  blackleg  who,  with  a 
shell  pea  outfit,  had  suddenly  inspired  the  fat  boy  with  a 
hope  and  prospect  of  realizing  unlimited  wealth. 

"You  kum  away  frum  there,"  said  Likkum  who 
seemed  to  be  everywhere,  trying  to  rescue  all  and  every- 
body from  the  injustice  of  their  kind.  Bob  took  Esau 
by  the  arm,  led  the  boy  away  and  explained  to  him  the 
trap  he  had  rescued  him  from. 

We  must,  however,  no  longer  be  deprived  of  the  vital 
salvation  waiting  in  the  real  functions  of  this  occasion. 
Let  the  roasted  ox  be  eaten ;  the  good  drink  be  drunk ; 
fakirs  fake  in  the  good,  old  way ;  lovers  love,  in  the  same 
— and  all  the  rest  of  it.  Bob,  we  do  not  think,  for  a 
moment,  of  course,  might  save  all !  Oh,  no.  And,  so  a 
congressman — an  unselfish  politician  and  savior  of  his 
country — an  illuminating  political  master  and  orator 
must  come  to  the  front — must  fill  the  breach.  He  comes 
—he  fills  it. 

Swarth  Blazes  ascends  the  speaker's  platform.  There 
is  a  hush. 

He  begins  by  telling  a  mighty  multitude  of  thirsting, 
and  eager  hearers  what  he  feels,  in  his  appreciation  of 
the  solemn  responsibility  under  which  he  rests  to  rescue 
them.  It  is  well  that  they  have  tried  and  trusted  leaders 
to  appeal  to — to  listen  to.  The  mission  of  those  leaders 
is  to  save  the  people.  It  is,  indeed,  greatly  needed  that 
the  people  be  saved,  and  that  the  member  of  congress 
save  them.  He  must  tell  his  hearers  of  the  beauties  of 
their  country — as  managed  by  himself;  of  the  fair  land 
of  liberty — he  performing  the  office  of  liberator;  of  the 
wonders  of  perfection  and  the  blessings  they  enjoy — in 
his  manufacture  and  brand,  and  of  the  loss,  the  incon- 


124  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

ceivable  and  irreparable  loss,  they  would  sustain  should 
they  but  dream,  for  a  moment,  of  putting  the  freedom 
factory  into  any  other  hands  than  his  or  possibly  those 
of  a  few  lesser  great  men. 

William  White  was  much  impressed  with  the  sincer- 
ity and  undoubted  applicability  of  the  political  utter- 
ances of  the  impassioned  and  eloquent  orator.  He  turned 
to  De,  whose  companionship  he  had  secured  for  the  day 
in  spite  of  the  growing  objections  of  Uncle  Peter  Brad- 
dock  to  a  visionary  and  unknown  writer  as  a  possible 
son  in  law. 

' '  The  country  is  surely  rescued,  by  our  present  social 
and  political  system,"  he  drily  exclaimed  to  his  intelli- 
gent and  comely  companion,  ' '  from  utter  destruction  and 


rum 


I" 


De  smiled  in  sympathetic  encouragement  of  one  in 
whof  n  she,  at  least,  had  no  lack  of  faith. 

Swarth  Blazes,  in  the  foregoing,  had  gotten  warmed 
up  to  the  righteousness  of  his  cause.  He  was  outraged  at 
the  bare  and  insupportable  thought  of  any  committing 
the  unpardonable  offense  of  offering  to  transfer  the  gov- 
ernment to  other  keeping.  He — his  jaw  fell — yes,  he 
could  not  utter  a  word.  He  stared.  Standing  before 
him,  not  ten  feet  away,  his  pale,  set  face  graven  in  the 
crowd  and  his  glittering,  cold,  mocking  steel  gray  eye 
fixing  the  speaker's  hypocritical  and  paralyzed  counte- 
nance, was — Jason  Jump  !  Mr.  Blazes '  conclusion,  that 
day,  of  his  efforts  to  save  his  people,  his  native  land, 
from  the  grasping  powers  of  adverse  and  opposing  un- 
holiness  is  said  to  have  been  marked  by  fits  and  starts — 
mostly  fits.  The  orator  was  observed  to  seek  refuge,  as 
from  some  haunting  presence  in  the  crowd;  the  throng 
would  sway  and  open, — there  again  stood  Jason  Jump 
when,  by  shifting  his  own  position,  the  declaimer  thought 
he  had  found  a  portion  of  his  audience  unaffected  by  an 


A  POLITICAL  VISITATION;  ROBBERY.     125 

influence  antagonistic  to  his  unselfish  flights.  lie  tried, 
once  more.  Like  a  dreadful  specter,  the  man,  whom  this 
political  mountebank  had  ruined,  met  the  latter 's  sight. 
The  speaker  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  streaming 
face  with  his  handkerchief ;  whispered  to  someone  sitting 
near  on  the  stand;  stammered  something  to  the  crowd 
about  feeling  unwell,  and — sat  down.  All  enthusiasm 
and  interest  ceased  as  if  it  had  never  been.  A  pale,  hard 
face  left  Mr.  Blazes  sitting  there,  forced  its  way  through 
the  throng  and  Jason  Jump  disappeared  on  the  out- 
skirts.   The  speaking  was  over. 

William  White  watched  the  climax  of  the  meeting 
which  was  brought  to  an  end  by  the  announcement  from 
the  stand  of  the  sudden  and  unexpected  indisposition  of 
Mr.  Blazes.  He  turned  and  looked  after  Jump's  van- 
ishing form. 

"What,"  thought  White,  while  something  restrained 
him  from  giving  utterance,  to  De  Braddock,  of  his  silent 
and  absorbed  speculations,  "can  it  mean?" 

' '  How  are  you  feeling  by  this  time,  Mr.  Blazes  ? "  in- 
quired a  member  of  the  committee  to  receive  the  hope  of 
nations,  after  the  hope  had  been  conveyed,  in  a  carriage, 
to  the  hotel,  in  the  office  of  which  he  now  sat. 

' '  Only  a  passing  f aintness ;  I  am  all  right. ' ' 

* '  You  were  asking  about  Mr.  Simons,  I  believe  ? ' '  po- 
litely and  incidentally  observed  the  committeeman. 

"I  was,"  replied  the  visiting  statesman.  "Merely  a 
matter  of  a  cattle  sale — I  understand,  he  expects  to  see 
me  before  I  leave  town — a  payment  of  some  money  due 
me  on  the  transaction.  Hah !  he  took  a  thousand  dollar 
bunch."  Blazes  rubbed  his  hands  together,  and  smiled 
with  considerable  satisfaction. 

Jason  Jump,  sitting  unseen  behind  a  half  open  door, 
listened  and  was  silent. 

"There's  your  man,  then,"  said  the  committee  mem- 


126  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

ber,  catching  sight  of  an  approaching  figure ;  and,  turn- 
ing, Blazes  could  see  Brad  Simons  headed  their  way. 

"Now,"  remarked  Swartli  Blazes  when  payment 
had  been  made  to  him,  by  Simons,  in  cash  (which  the 
purchaser  happened  to  have  been  just  paid  by  a  crank 
averse  to  institutions  of  deposit  that  robbed  their  de- 
positors, and  who  kept  all  his  money  in  a  trunk),  "you 
have  a  good  bank,  here  ? ' ' 

"Our  bank,"  rejoined  Simons,  "is  all  right." 

"I  -sdll  deposit  this,  while  I'm  away  for  a  few  days 
in  the  country,"  said  Mr.  Blazes. 

"And  after  I  take  care  of  it  for  you,  as  is  the  duty 
of  a  friend,"  Mr.  Jump  silently  and  in  great  good 
humor  communed  with  himself,  as  he  continued  to  sit 
unseen  behind  the  door,  "I  am  going  to  elect  my  own 
member  of  congress." 

The  shadows  were  falling  upon  them  that  had  raised 
the  phantoms  before  the  vision  of  the  man,  in  the  star- 
light, on  the  bridge,  at  Washington.  Retribution  was 
descending  upon  us  who  had  conjured  up  the  ill  and  ab- 
horrent shapes. 

A  one  horse  chaise  went  by,  in  the  dark.  It  was  get- 
ting well  along  toward  midnight.  The  country  road  was 
deserted  and  lonely,  and  the  single  occupant  of  the  ve- 
hicle had  been  detained,  by  sickness,  beyond  the  earlier 
hours  of  sleep  prevailing  in  the  primitive  locality  in 
which  he  ministered  comfort  and  consolation  to  the  sick 
and  dying;  for  it  was  Parson  Woods  who  drove  his  old 
sorrel  when  his  fancy,  which  was  rarely  the  case,  did 
not  impel  him  to  ride  the  same.  On  this  night,  he  jogged 
along  in  the  chaise,  giving  little  heed  to  the  road  and 
letting  his  mind  wander  at  will  among  the  thoughts 
awakened  by  his  recent  glimpse  of  the  "dark  river,"  his 
call  having  been  to  the  bedside  of  one  nearing  the  end 


A  POLITICAL  VISITATION;  ROBBERY.     127 

of  the  present  earthly  way.  As  he  left  the  country  high- 
way and  entered  the  town  of  T ,  where  he  would  stay 

for  the  night,  he  was  struck,  in  an  unusual  degree,  by 
the  brooding  silence  of  the  place.  The  streets  were  ten- 
antless  and  the  shadows  lay  heavy  beneath  the  trees  lin- 
ing his  course.  lie  could  not  account  for  a  chilly  thrill 
which  passed  over  him,  as  he  came  within  sight  of  the 
old  building  opposite  the  tavern,  which  served  to  house 
the  only  bank  of  the  limited  community.  At  the  tav- 
ern, Woods  drew  up  and  got  out  of  his  vehicle.  As  he 
did  so,  a  voice  at  his  side  softly  exclaimed: 

"Jest  in  time,  parson.  Yer  a  most  accommodatin' 
man,  an'   '11  lend  us  yer  shay,  I  know." 

Woods  turned  quickly  on  the  speaker,  wondering 
where  the  latter  could  have  been  to  have  escaped  obser- 
vation, and  found  himself  confronted  by  two  masked 
men. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  demanded  the  parson,  in 
momentary  alarm. 

"Not  quite  so  loud,"  cautioned  the  one  who  had 
opened  the  agreeable  negotiations  with  the  minister  for 
the  use  of  the  preacher's  conveyance;  "not  quite  so 
loud,  parson,  er  we  might  hev'  to  do  somep'n'  we  mout 
be  sorry  for,"  and  the  soft  spoken  adviser  displayed  the 
menacing  barrel  of  a  pistol  before  the  fascinated  clerical 
gaze,  effectually  arresting  the  poor  pastor  in  any  further 
idea  he  might  have  had  of  making  a  lawful  outcry. 
"Now  then,  lookee  here,  ef  ye  open  yer  mouth,"  said  the 
man  with  the  weapon,  dropping  his  softer  tones  of 
speech   and   delivering   himself   in    an    intense    hissing 

threat,  "  I  '11  blow  yer  d d  head  off !     Here,  Hen,  fix 

'im  out ;  an '  wait  f er  me, ' '  and,  while  the  ready  Hen 
bound  and  gagged  the  unlucky  man  of  the  gospel,  the 
other  ruffian  first  enforced  obedience,  on  the  part  of 
Parson  Woods ;  when,  replacing  his  pistol  in  his  pocket 


128  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

and  directing  the  depositing  of  Woods  on  the  covered 
porch  of  the  inn,  he  crossed  the  street  to  the  bank  which 
seemed  to  be  the  object  of  his  designs.  The  miscreant, 
who  had  bound  and  otherwise  secured  the  o\^aier  of  the 
vehicle,  apparently  knew  the  part  he  had  to  play;  for 
he  remained  behind,  sharing  his  attention  between  the 
captive  and  a  close  watch  upon  the  street. 

There  was  a  passing  horseman — a  belated  farmer, 
and  the  outlaw  at  the  tavern  drew  close  to  the  bound 
man  on  the  porch.  The  horseman  passed  on;  and  the 
speechless  and  unhappy  parson  was  forced  to  listen  to 
the  hoofbeats  die  gradually  away  in  the  distance.  He 
strove  desperately,  but  without  avail,  to  free  himself 
from  his  bonds. 

It  had  now  long  since  passed  the  hour  of  midnight. 

The  ruffian  left  to  guard  the  man  of  religion,  as  well 
as  to  watch  the  vicinity  Anthout  the  little  bank  building, 
remained  vigilantly  in  the  shadows  of  the  trees  that 
lined  the  walk.  There  had  apparently  been  little  risk, 
thus  far,  in  the  attempt  upon  the  crude  and  primitive 
institution  of  finance  as,  doubtless.  Black  Hank  had  an- 
ticipated there  would  be.  The  night  watchman  for  the 
bank,  of  a  wayward  and  unreliable  disposition  at  best, 
sometimes  staid  around  and  sometimes  did  not ;  and  this 
time  did  not.  The  outlaws  had  seen  to  it  that  he  did 
not.  There  was  no  sound — nothing  stirred;  and  pres- 
ently, from  the  insecure  and  common  structure  supply- 
ing quarters  for  a  place  to  transact  financial  business 
in  that  early  settlement  of  farmers  and  commerce,  came 
Black  Hank  bringing  a  heavy  box.  With  difficulty  he 
succeeded  in  conveying  his  burden  to  the  preacher's 
chaise  across  the  way  where  Hen,  the  freebooter's  lieu- 
tenant, waited  in  watchful  guardianship  of  the  street 
and  the  captured  owner  of  the  conveyance.     The  two 


A  POLITICAL  VISITATION;  ROBBERY.     129 

placed  the  case  in  the  minister's  vehicle  and  sprang  in 
beside  it. 

Woods,  lying  gagged  and  otherwise  disabled  where 
the  robbers  had  cast  him  in  the  shadows  of  the  tavern 
porch,  had  not  been  idle,  but,  with  the  faith  that  was  in 
him  and  a  deep  and  silent  prayer  upon  his  lips  to  the 
Master  Whom  he  served,  had,  at  last,  contrived  to  loosen 
his  bonds;  and,  as  the  midnight  marauders  started  to 
whip  up  the  old  sorrel  into  a  pace  beseeming  the  neces- 
sities of  flight,  succeeded  in  displacing  the  gag  prevent- 
ing speech.  As  the  whip  struck  the  flank  of  his  patient 
and  faithful  animal,  the  man  of  God  let  out  a  cry  of 
warning  and  alarm  that  sounded  upon  the  still  silence 
of  the  night  like  the  crack  of  doom.  With  a  curse  Black 
Hank  whipped  up  the  sorrel.  Like  his  master  and  owner, 
the  old  horse,  upon  occasion,  had  spirit  and  dashed  into 
the  middle  of  the  road.  Parson  Woods,  by  this  time 
free  of  his  fetters,  was  on  his  feet;  and,  in  deafening 
tones  mixed,  it  is  hinted,  with  the  most  picturesque  and 
unorthodox  profanity,  w^as  wildly  shouting  after  the 
rapidly  moving  conveyance,  as  he  pursued  it  at  high 
speed  and  hatless  down  the  middle  of  the  street.  One  of 
the  escaping  outlaws  turned  and  fired,  happily  without 
effect.  The  sounds,  the  shot  and  confusion  aroused  and 
brought  upon  the  scene  of  action  and  excitement  the  one 
constable  of  the  town,  who  issued  hastily  from  a  remote 
and  doubtful  retirement.  Drawing  an  ancient  Colts  re- 
volver from  his  pocket,  he  incontinently  banged  away, 
the  explosion  bursting  upon  the  rural  region  like  a  bom- 
bardment of  Gibraltar.  It  is  not  known  whether  the 
energetic  officer  mistook  the  flying  figure  of  Parson 
Woods  for  an  unlawful  disturber  of  the  peace,  or  not — 
no  one  was  hurt,  and  Swarth  Blazes'  thousand  dollars 
was  gone. 

The  silence  of  far  advanced  night  lay  upon  rock  and 


130  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

tree  and  briar  tangled  ■«dlds.  Now  and  again  could  be 
heard  the  sharp  crackling  of  underbrush  as  the  rustling 
form  of  a  night  prowling  animal  broke  the  stillness.  A 
whippoorwill  called  somewhere  in  the  wood,  and  another 
seemed  to  answer.  Presently,  a  crunching  over  the  rocks 
and  a  smothered  curse  at  the  brambles  told  of  the  ap- 
proach of  human  feet.  At  the  same  instant,  a  figure, 
seeming  to  start  up  out  of  the  base  of  the  solid  rock,  be- 
came vaguely  outlined  against  a  stony  cliff  near  where 
the  sounds  were  approaching.  Once  more,  from  the 
lips  of  this  apparition  sounded  the  call  of  the  whippoor- 
will. An  answering  note  came  from  the  region  where 
still  crunching  and  cursing,  the  other  night's  visitant  or 
visitants  labored  in  progress  through  the  bushes.  The 
latter  parted,  and  out  upon  an  open  space  in  front  of  the 
cliff  came  two  men  bearing  between  them  a  hea\'y  box. 
The  shadowy  form — that  of  a  man — first  seen,  now  came 
forward. 

"You  got  it,  all  right  and  proper,  didn't  you?  Dang 
it,  Hank,  but  you're  a  good  one,  and  that's  no  mistake, 
neither,"  gruffly  essayed  the  lookout,  in  a  manner  of 
congratulation. 

"They'll  want  these  here  see-curities  a7id  coin  at 
ther  bank  in  the  mornin',  an'  they  won't  get  'em," — the 
box  had  been  deposited,  for  a  breathing  spell,  upon  the 
ground;  and  the  low  tones  in  which  Hank's  reply  was 
made  were  supplemented,  through  the  speaker's  great 
black  beard,  by  a  laugh  conveying  much  facetious  and 
satirical  humor.  The  bank  robber  wiped  the  perspira- 
tion from  his  face  wdth  a  soiled  and  much  used  handker- 
chief, which  he  drew  from  his  pocket  -with  a  flourish. 

"Have  any  trouble?"  asked  the  outlaw  lookout. 

"No — 't's  only  an'  ol'  shell  ter  git  into.  Jes' 
walked  right  in,  same  's  if  I  drawed  my  little  old  check ; 
got  th'  stuff,  an'  here  'tis.— How's  th'  old  gal?" 


A  POLITICAL  VISITATION;  ROBBERY.     131 

"Looney,  'sfar  'si  kin  see,"  replied  the  robber's  in- 
formant indifferently.  "Better  git  thet  swag  hid  away, 
hedn't  ye?"  he  added. 

Thus  cautioned,  the  booty  was  lifted  from  the  ground 
and  the  robbers  vanished  amidst  the  rocks  and  bushes. 

The  countryside,  the  following  morning,  rang  with 

the  robbery  of  the   T bank.     That  institution  of 

finance  had  been  stripped  of  its  cash  and  its  securities, 
and  was  forced  to  go  to  the  wall.     There  was  a  panic 

among  the  depositors;  and  T was  wrought  up  to  a 

frenzy  of  excitement.  The  entire  municipal  police  force 
consisting  of  the  constable  and  an  unassuming  tin  star, 
and  reinforced  by  two  idle  young  men  who  loafed  about 
the  saloons,  made  dashing  and  courageous  raids  upon 
the  outlying  country,  but  nothing  was  discovered.  The 
guardians  of  the  peace  would  again  return  to  the  popu- 
lation of  the  distracted  town;  receive  graciously,  if  se- 
cretly, numerous  refreshing  "bracers"  from  the  grate- 
ful populace  bent  on  showing  its  appreciation  of  the  cus- 
todians of  their  law,  and,  wiping  the  police  mouth  with 
the  back  of  the  police  hand,  the  raiders  would  again  fare 
forth  after  the  violators  of  the  community.  But  this 
could  not  continue  for  always.  Evening  came,  and  the 
seekers  for  the  perpetrators  of  the  robbery  were  com- 
pelled to  point  to  the  tin  star  with  a  sad  and  melancholy 
admission  of  its  failure.    Sic  transit  gloria  mundi. 

Thus,  in  the  uncertainty  of  human  affairs,  the  little 
fortunes  of  the  frugal  locality  were  swept  away;  and 
William  White,  a  depositor  in  the  local  bank,  saw  him- 
self practically  penniless.  A  small  property,  off  which 
he  had  contrived  to  subsist,  had  been  waiting  for  some 
savings  to  amount  to  enough  to  pay  off  its  mortgage; 
and  White  foresaw  the  loss  of  his  main  support  in  the 
robbery  of  the  bank,  and  in  the  consequent  disappear- 
ance of  his  little  accumulation.     There  were,  likewise, 


132  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

securities  and  valuable  papers  taken ;  and  the  growing 
though  still  undeveloped  community  experienced  a  shock 
that  was  destined  to  be  felt  in  many  ways.  Brad  Simons 
was  a  limited  sufferer ;  but  more  especially  was  his  house- 
keeper Mona  Walker  affected  by  the  misfortunes  of  the 
bank,  and  in  a  way,  too,  that  would  add  very  materially 
to  ]\Ir.  Simons'  defeat  and  overthrow. 

White  accepted,  -without  complaint,  the  issue  that 
fate  had  thrust  upon  him ;  and  none  ever  heard  him 
allude  to  the  matter  of  the  bank  robbery  in  any  lasting 
or  unhappy  terms  of  discontent  or  diminished  faith  in 
the  objects  of  the  future. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


SHADOWS    CROSS   THE   SUN. 


William  White,  let  it  be  remembered,  has  boon  char- 
acteristically described  by  Bob  Likkum  as  a  "  'roses- 
red,-violets-blue,-sugar  's-s weet,-and-so-are-you '  poet-and- 
writer-chap. "  Likkum  only  shared  that  peculiar  prej- 
udice in  regard  to  White,  which  practical  communities, 
in  those  days,  entertained  for  budding  literary  genius, 
the  world  over.  White  had  been  made  shy  by  the  doubt 
which  the  farm  region  had  in  general  seen  fit  to  bestow 
upon  his  unobtrusive  talents.  It  was  only  upon  particu- 
lar occasions, — as  that,  for  instance,  of  an  eclipse  of  the 
sun, — that  the  literary  man  felt  the  presence  of  a  strang- 
er occurrence,  than  even  that  attending  his  own  lit- 
erary performances,  would  permit  him  to  move  about 
in  the  view  of  men  and  women  with  something  like  com- 
fort. So,  on  the  afternoon  of  the  eclipse,  when  Bob  Lik- 
kum had  brought  Martha  Braddock  her  letter  from 
John,  the  outclass  visited  De. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  De  herself  did  not  view 
William's  accomplishments  with  the  doubtful  scrutiny 
bestowed  upon  them  by  an  unappreciative  neighborhood. 
On  the  contrary,  her  estimate  of  the  young  writer's  abil- 
ities went  to  an  extreme  of  exalted  admiration.  When, 
this  afternoon,  William  reached  the  gate,  the  maid  blush- 
ing and  prompted  by  the  friendly  and  amiable  Bob  Lik- 
kum came  from  the  house  with  eager  welcome. 

William  White  was  of  the  blonde  type.  His  hair 
curled   closely   about   a    finely   shaped   head,    giving   a 

133 


134  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

classical  effect  to  an  intelligent  face.  He  had  been  an 
athlete  at  college  and,  though  not  of  a  large  frame,  was 
endowed  with  graceful  proportions  and  great  reserve 
physical  strength. 

White's  sweetheart  had  discontentedly  borne  in 
mind,  with  cherished  seriousness  and  exaggerated  im- 
portance,— a  result  of  all  lover's  fondly  biased  estimate 
of  "love's  young  dream," — the  unfulfilled  appointment 
made  at  the  schoolhouse  to  come  and  see  her  on  the 
previous  evening,  when  the  writer's  forcible  restraint, 
by  his  lawless  abductors,  had  prevented  his  coming.  She 
looked  chidingly  at  her  lover. 

"Your  engagements  with  the  "\ndow — ]\Irs.  Walm- 
sey,"  observed  Miss  Braddock  with  an  immense  pre- 
tense of  offense,  "must  consume  most  of  your  time. 
Why  did  you  not  come  to  see  me,  last  evening  ? ' ' 

White  felt  it  would  serve  no  useful  purpose  to  recite 
to  De  the  adventure  with  the  freebooters;  and  he  was 
left  but  avv^kward  ability  to  clear  himself.  However,  he 
laughed  away  the  pretty  though  aft'ected  imputation  of 
jealous  distrust  of  him  with  the  M'idow,  and  said  in  a 
manner  of  great  earnestness, 

"De,  life  and  death  were  in  the  occasion  that  took 
me  elsewhere  than  to  you,  last  night." 

"Why!  William, — why,  what  on  earth — ?"  his  com- 
panion started  to  exclaim. 

When  William  Wliite  interrupted  her  with, 

"Do  not  ask  me  more." 

De  Braddock  glanced  quickly  up  into  the  grave, 
serious  face  of  the  man  at  her  side,  and  "was  silent. 

"Have  you  brought  your  smoked  glass?"  she  asked 
presently.  "I  suppose  you  are  prepared,"  De  went  on, 
"to  view  the  eclipse?" 

"I  wish  all  eclipses,"  observed  William  White  fixing 
his  gaze,  with  a  quizzical  manner,  upon  the  other's  face, 


SHADOWS  CROSS  TflE  SUN.  135 

"would  confine  themselves  to  the  sun  and  not  embrace 
my  hopes." 

"Have  your  hopes  lately  suffered  an  eclipse,  Will- 
iam?" demurely  and  a  tritle  consciously  questioned  the 
girl.    "The  publishers — " 

"  It  is  not  a  matter  of  the  publishers ;  you  know,  very 
well,  where  my  eclipse — you  know,"  quaintly  retorted 
the  young  man,  "the  quarter  of  my  heaven  that  is  in 
lasting  and  perpetual  shadow,"  which  remark  accom- 
panied by  an  unmistakably  soft  glance  into  the  eyes 
before  him  needed  no  further  or  more  satisfying  ex- 
planation. 

"You're  a  silly  goose,"  retorted  De,  turning  away 
with  heightened  color  and  fluttering  heart, — "you  and 
your  eclipse.  Parson  Woods  and  Bob — Bob  Likkum — 
are  inside;  come  in,  William,  be  a  good  boy,  and,"  look- 
ing shyly  at  her  lover  over  her  shoulder,  "leave  eclipses 
to  people  that  study  science, ' '  which,  as  we  all  very  well 
know,  meant,  "please  renew  discussion  of  your  ravish- 
ing eclipse  as  soon  as  possible,  if  not  sooner!" 

De  had  entered  the  house  and  William  White  was 
about  to  follow,  when  the  latter 's  attention  was  arrested 
by  noises  in  the  road.  White  paused  a  moment  at  the 
door.  Some  men  were  coming  on,  from  the  north,  with 
a  drove  of  cattle. 

White,  left  alone,  remained  a  moment  on  the  porch. 
Presently,  as  the  objects  in  the  road  drew  nearer,  the 
writer  half  aloud  remarked, 

"Simons'  bunch.  He's  well  off,  too,"  continude  the 
soliloquizer,  "and  I  have  nothing.  He's  driving,  to- 
day," added  the  solitary  man  fixing  his  eyes  upon  the 
form  of  a  horseman  who,  attended  by  two  or  three  rough 
looking  fellows,  likewise  on  horseback,  brought  up  the 
rear  of  the  advancing  drove.  The  silent  figure  on  the 
porch  watched  one  after  another  of  the  cattle  pass,  until 


136  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

all  had  gone  by  in  a  cloud  of  dust,  when  the  drovers 
themselves  came  abreast  of  the  farmhouse. 

"Bill,"  called  Brad  Simons  addressing  an  assistant, 
as  the  leader  and  his  drovers  came  straggling  opposite 
the  house,  "you  and  Joe  drive  them  on;  I'll  overtake 
you.  Good  afternoon,"  Simons  hailed  White.  "Prob- 
ably, you  have  not  observed,"  called  the  former,  "that 
the  eclipse  has  commenced?"  and  the  o\\Tier  of  the  cat- 
tle indicated,  by  a  gesture  with  his  riding  whip  in  the 
direction  of  the  sun,  the  meaning  of  his  speech. 

The  literary  man's  reflections  had  prevented  his 
realizing  the  first  stages  of  the  interesting  event  of  the 
day.  He  looked  toward  the  sun ;  he  raised  a  small  piece 
of  smoked  glass,  which  he  carried  in  his  hand,  to  his 
eye ;  sure  enough,  a  narrow  line  of  discoloration  was  al- 
ready seen  across  the  outer  edge  of  the  glowing  disk 
above. 

"So  I  see,"  returned  the  writer;  and  wheeling  and 
raising  his  voice  he  called, 

"De, — Miss  De,  you  and  your  mother  and  the  others 
come  out — the  eclipse  has  begun." 

William  White's  announcement  brought  forth  the 
occupants  of  the  house;  and  the  group  proceeded  into 
the  yard,  where  the  party  consisting  of  Parson  Woods, 
Bob  Likkum,  De,  Mother  Braddock  and  White  took  posi- 
tions to  view  the  heavens  through  their  pieces  of  smoked 
glass. 

Brad  Simons,  having  gotten  designingly  and  sinis- 
terly  thus  far  and  having  seen  his  cattle  go  on  ahead 
under  the  direction  of  his  drovers,  deemed  it  evilly  ad- 
visable to  go  farther;  and  now  dismounted  and,  tying 
his  horse  to  the  hitch  rail  by  the  side  of  William  Wliite  's 
animal,  entered  Peter  Braddock 's  dooryard  and  joined 
the  party  of  observers  of  the  strange  and  singular  hap- 
pening going  on  overhead. 


SHADOWS  CROSS  THE  SUN.  137 

"Simons,"  said  Parson  Woods,  as  the  former  came 
into  the  yard — the  parson  continuing,  with  head  thrown 
back,  to  scan  the  heavens  through  his  dimmed  glass, 
and  speaking  without  change  of  position, — "a  very  won- 
derful and  sublime  event. — Shipping  cattle?" 

"Very,  indeed,  parson,"  rejoined  the  cattleman, 
with  his  own  eyes  fixed  upon  Martha  Braddock's  pretty 
daughter.  "Shipping  cattle  or  the  eclipse,  wonderful, 
parson?  Both  create  enough  confusion  and  commotion. 
Yes,  I  've  been  getting  a  few  head  together.  I  '11  need  the 
sales.  The  robbery  of  the  bank  has  affected  us  all  a  lit- 
tle; although,  fortunately  for  me,  my  balance  happened, 
at  the  time,  to  be  small." 

"I  wuz  jus'  tellin'  paw,"  said  Mrs.  Braddock,  "'at 
I  wuz  glad  enough  we  didn't  have  nothin'  in  it." 

"In  the  bank?"  rejoined  Simons  gazing  at  De  Brad- 
dock.  "Oh,  yes,"  he  turned  back  to  Martha  Braddock; 
"the  robbers  got  some  cash  and  papers  of  mine,  as  well 
as  valuable  papers  belonging  to  Miss  Walker,  my  house- 
keeper. ' ' 

"Pike  Plummer  got  pretty  hard  hit,"  said  Likkum. 

"Ye'd  better  look  out  fur  them  outlaws,  I  tell  ye," 
enjoined  Mrs.  Braddock,  scanning  Simons,  De  and  then 
the  heavens. 

"I  had  hard  enough  time  finding  my  shay  and  old 
sorrel,"  said  Parson  Woods  ruefully.  He  looked  at 
Brad  Simons  and  back  at  the  sky. 

Simons  turned  to  De. 

"Good  afternoon,  Miss  Braddock;  are  you  eclipsing 
the  sun?" 

"Oh,  jokes  on  the  eclipse  are  getting  so  old,  Mr. 
Simons,"  retorted  De  with  a  regretful  and  maybe  re- 
proachful look  at  William  White,  who  had  failed  to 
renew  his  scientific  discussion,  "that,  really,  you  must 
give  us  a  little  rest  on  them."     She  gave  a  pretty  toss 


138  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

of  the  head  and,  in  common  with  the  others,  continued 
t«  view  that  farreaching  and  infinite  space  so  dwarfing 
into  insignificance  the  petty  strifes  and  heartbreaks  of 
humanity  as  to  cause  wonder  how  we  grieve  or  fret  or 
worry  about  anything  in  Life's  Great  Story! 

"This  ee-clipse,"  said  Bob  Likkum  after  a  spell  of 
silence,  on  the  part  of  all, — the  speaker,  vnth  the  others, 
still  viewing  the  lofty  dome  on  high, — "seems  sorter  to 
me  like  uh  man  without  uli  home,  er  one  o'  them  'air 
new  f angled  ditchin'  macheens:  it's  out  o'  all  calk'la- 
tion.  I  'member, ' '  went  on  Bob  reminiscently,  the  party 
of  observers  straining  their  necks,  if  not  their  visions, 
at  the  dark  shadows  creeping  slowly  across  the  face  of 
the  sun,  "a-hearin'  ol'  Cy  San'ders,  'at  went  away  to 
seek  his  fortin'  out  west,  say  ez  how  he'd  ruther  not  live 
at  home,  er  at  all,  than  be  without  riches.  Now  then," 
added  Likkum,  "I'm  a  homebuddy  myse'f,  I  am,  an'  I 
can't  see  how's  any  man  kin  be  indiffrunt  to  that  'air 
state  uv  perfeck  blessedness." 

Very  little  attention  was  paid,  by  those  assembled 
in  Farmer  Braddock's  dooryard,  to  this  piece  of  quaint 
domestic  wisdom  from  the  country  sage  and  humorist 
Robert  Likkum.  Brad  Simons,  however,  proved  an  ex- 
ception. He  was  not  so  intently  engrossed  in  the  sub- 
limity of  the  heavens  as  he  was  occupied  in  viewing — if 
we  may  use  the  phrase — that  earthly  star  De  Braddock; 
and  was  inspired  to  render  tribute  to  Mr.  Likkum 's  wise 
and  tender  observation.  With  his  gaze  fastened  upon 
De's  uplifted  features,  he  earnestly  exclaimed: 

"Right,  Likkum,  right;  the  state  of  no  man  is  per- 
fect or  complete  without  a  home  or,"  added  the  cattle- 
man, with  an  increased  depth  of  emphasis,  and  his  eyes 
devouring  De's  face,  "without  a  wife  to  make  it  beau- 
tiful," a  sentiment  of  enough  merit  to  have  graced  even 


SHADOWS  CROSS  THE  SUN.  139 

worthier  lips  than  those  of  the  designing  man  utter- 
ing it. 

"You  don't  say  so,"  said  Bob  Likkum. 

De  Braddock  was  conscious  of  this  last  utterance, 
on  the  part  of  Brad  Simons,  whether  or  not  Bob  Lik- 
kum's  sincerer  first  speech  had  reached  her  ears.  The 
girl  was  embarrassed ;  and  made  uneasy  efforts  to  throw 
off  the  effect  of  Simons '  words. 

"Wonder,"  surmised  Mother  Braddock  watching  the 
sky,  "ef  Peter  an'  them  ban's  sees  this  meeraculous 
f  eenomynum  ? ' ' 

"Wall,"  observed  Likkum  drily,  "possibul;  ez  the 
sky  don't  come  to  an  eend  this  side  uv  Indyanop 'lus. " 

"My  neck's  near  broken,  I  know  that,"  finally  an- 
nounced Parson  Woods,  as  he  lowered  his  gaze,  letting 
his  eyesight  appreciate  a  kind  of  yello%\'ish,  subdued  and 
ghostly  light  stealing  over  the  face  of  the  neighboring 
woods  and  adjacent  fields. 

"De,  child,"  chimed  in  Mrs.  Braddock  lowering  her 
glass  and  rubbing  the  back  of  her  neck,  "the  parson's 
right, — you'll  jes'  simply  break  the  back  uv  yer  neck,  ef 
you  hold  it  in  that  'air  position  much  longer,"  and, 
after  the  manner  of  sheep  that  follow  their  leader  over 
the  stile,  one  after  another  of  the  viewers  of  the  slowly 
darkening  heavens  lowered  their  bits  of  smoked  glass. 

William  Wliite  was  watching  Brad  Simons  and  De 
Braddock.  The  power  of  money!  Simons  was  rich; 
William  was  poor.  "Surely,"  again  thought  White, 
"De  must  prefer  Simons  to  himself." 

And  the  shadows  were  crossing  the  sun. 

Bob  Likkum  standing  with  William  White,  and  as  if 
reading  the  latter 's  thoughts,  put  in : 

"I  calk 'late,  Billy,  I  wouldn't  let  any  'tarnal  fish 
like  Brad  Simons  snake  my  gal  off," — Bob  was  regard- 
ing, with  a  careful,  reserved  and  distant  air,  the  actions 


140  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

of  Brad  Simons  with  De  Braddock.  Likkum  might  not 
have  approved  of  White's  vocation;  but  he  certainly 
preferred  the  writer  personally  to  the  cattleman. 

''What  can  I  do,  Bob?     I'm  poor,"  rejoined  White. 

"Poor,  fiddlesticks!"  retorted  Bob  with  infinite  con- 
tempt, not  giving  the  writer  a  chance  to  speak  further. 
"I'd  give  dollars  fer  you,"  continued  Likkum,  "where 
I  wouldn't  give  nothin'  fur  that  slink,  Simons." 

"Thank  you.  Bob,"  said  White  humbly. 

"Hem — ahem!"  coughed  Bob,  conscious  of  having 
praised  the  popularly  ostracized  literary  "Billy  White," 
and  yet  too  just  and  too  gentlemanly  to  qualify  his  opin- 
ion. "See  here,"  proceeded  the  rustic  philosopher  wdtU 
emphasis,  "humility's  all  right,  an'  it's  my  principle — 
it'll  cure  'bout  nigh  all  the  troubles  in  the  world — but 
ye  don't  want  to  overdo  it.  Don't  be  too  backward  er 
too  for'ard  's  my  way.  Ye 're  honest;  an'  it's  more  n' 
Brad  is,  I  doubt.  And,"  said  Likkum,  glad  of  an  op- 
portunity to  say  something  that  would  "stand," 
"there's  yer  one  arm,  too.  Ye  went  and  fit.  Did 
Simons?  Nary,  he  didn't.  Had  a  substitute  there," 
and  Likkum  swept  his  arm  southward  where  might  still 
be  fancied  the  rolling  dunny  smoke  of  war,  signifying, 
by  his  words  and  action,  the  fact  of  Simons  having 
fought  by  proxy  in  the  then  late  rebellion. 

William  White  had  made  a  good  soldier;  and  re- 
mained silent  under  a  fit  sense  of  credit  in  this  respect 
of  a  record  in  the  army. 

"Besides,"  concluded  Bob  conscientiously  if  some- 
what doubtfully  sealing  a  final  preference  for  White, 
"Brad's  nothin',  nohow." 

The  literary  man  stood,  for  an  instant,  pondering 
with  his  eyes  turned  toward  Simons.  Brad  seemed  to 
become  conscious  of  White 's  gaze ;  he  laughed  and  ut- 
tered a  remark  in  a  low  tone  to  De  Braddock  standing 


SHADOWS  CROSS  THE  SUN.  141 

a  little  distance  off,  with  her  attention  fixed  on  William 
White,  constrainedly  by  side  of  Brad  Simons.  The  girl, 
apparently  offended,  flushed  and  made  a  movement  to 
draw  back  from  the  forward  cattleman.  There  was  evi- 
dently a  hasty  apology  from  Simons. 

Parson  Woods '  solemn  voice  was  heard : 

"  'The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God,  and  the 
firmament  showeth  His  handiwork.'  " 

Like  a  flash,  coming  from  no  quarter  of  which  any 
present  had  previously  been  aware,  there  appeared  in 
the  midst  of  the  gathering  the  weird,  uncanny  form  of 
a  woman,  who  threw  her  long,  thin  arms  above  her  head, 
her  claw  like  fingers  clutching  and  unelutching  in  the 
air  and  pointing  at  the  vanishing  sun.  She  was  between 
forty  and  fifty  years  of  age ;  and  of  the  meager,  drawn 
features  of  those  whose  minds  are  flighty  and  diseased. 
She  wore  a  coarse,  drab,  homespun  garment  that  hung 
loosely  about  her  tall,  gaunt  figure. 

As  the  wild  form  of  the  woman  glided  in  among  the 
others,  her  arms  and  fingers  extended,  her  hand  un- 
consciously struck,  as  it  brushed  past  Bob  Likkum, 
against  the  latter 's  uplifted  grasp  containing  a  frag- 
ment of  smoked  glass,  causing  the  last  object  to  fall  to 
the  ground. 

"Let  it  lay — let  it  lay,"  cried  the  demented  crea- 
ture;— "it  sp'iled  the  sunlight  fur  my  Nancy; — let  it 
lay; — but  find  him, — he  hides  the  sun; — let  it  lay." 

Bob  Likkum  stooped  and  picked  up  the  piece  of 
discolored  glass,  and  stood  with  it  idly  in  his  hand;  De's 
mother  shrank  to  the  side  of  her  daughter;  White  re- 
mained a  silent  spectator;  Parson  Woods  made  a  move- 
ment to  pacify  the  crazed  being,  and  Brad  Simons  took 
a  step  in  her  direction. 

"It's  Rachel  Bolers.  There's  no  harm  in  her,"  said 
Simons  breaking  the  spell.     "Rachel,"  continued  Brad, 


142  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

drawing  nearer  to  the  woman,  "come,  come,  you  must 
not  stay  here." 

"Who  says  I  can't  stay?"  shrilly  exclaimed  the 
woman, — ' '  who  says  it  ?  I  want  the  man  'at  blasted  my 
Nanny's  life  and  her  mother's, — me  and  my  Nanny. 
You  ain't  him,  air  ye?"  suddenly  queried  she,  breaking 
off  in  her  impassioned  strain  and  gazing  into  the  face  of 
Brad  Simons;  "fur  ef  ye  ^vuz,  I'd  kill  ye,"  and  the  dis- 
tracted woman,  singularly  calm  now,  looked  like  some 
dread  spirit  of  judgment. 

"No,  no,"  exclaimed  Simons,  in  what  appeared  to 
be  unnecessary  haste  stepping  back;  "of  course,  not. 
I  know  nothing  of  your  daughter  Nancy's  affairs,  Mrs. 
Bolers." 

"Nothing — nothing,"  echoed  Rachel  Bolers.  Her 
paroxysm  of  a  moment  since  was  gone,  and  her  voice 
took  on  a  low,  moaning  sound.  "Someone  knows.  I'll 
find  him.  When  I  do,  I'll  be  his  judgment,"  and  the 
speaker,  here,  trailed  off  into  an  unintelligible,  wailing 
kind  of  insane  gibberish. 

"  Oh !  do  send  her  away, ' '  cried  Mother  Braddock, 
to  w^hom,  as  to  all  the  inhabitants  of  that  region,  the 
harmless  person  of  Rachel  Bolers  was  familiar.  Mother 
Braddock  had  her  own  special  dislike  and  prejudice  for 
one  who,  like  Rachel,  was  a  suggestion — particularly  a 
crazed  one — of  the  subject  so  distasteful  at  best  to  the 
worthy  wife  of  Peter  Braddock, — the  subject  of  her 
son's  marriage  to  Nance  Bolers,  Rachel's  daughter. 

Brad  Simons,  who  had  appeared  abashed  and  in  an 
unaccountable  manner  silenced  by  Rachel  Bolers'  ques- 
tion concerning  identity  of  his  own  with  the  abuser  of 
the  confidence  of  the  distracted  woman's  daughter,  upon 
Mrs.  Braddock 's  direct  injunction  to  send  Rachel  away 
advanced. 

"Go,"  ordered  the  cattleman  peremptorily. 


SHADOWS  CROSS  THE  SUN.  143 

The  crazed  woman  appeared  to  have  one  of  those 
rare  bursts  of  momentary  intelligence  which  sometime 
visit  the  mentally  unbalanced.  She  did  not  speak  for  a 
moment;  and  her  keen  glance,  with  not  a  wholly  irra- 
tional stare,  searched  Brad  Simons'  watchful  face  low- 
ering darkly  at  hers.  Straightening  herself  to  her  full 
height,  and,  in  a  voice  of  piercing  and  thrilling  tone  and 
force,  she  cried : 

"You're  him — you're  th'  man  'at  stole  my  Nanny, 
afore  she  married  Johnny  Braddock, ' '  and  Rachel  shook 
her  bony  and  emaciated  hand  in  Simons'  face. 

The  effect  of  this  speech  was  electrical.  Brad  re- 
coiled from  the  accusing  woman's  fierce  and  threatening 
glance.  In  the  unnatural  dusk  of  the  eclipse  he  grew 
white  and  burning  red  by  turns.  Animated  by  just  in- 
dignation, as  thought  all  but  Bob  Likkum,  Brad  Simons, 
recovering,  started  forward.  Then,  recollecting  him- 
self, he  faced  the  assembled  company  with  the  appear- 
ance of  a  smile  of  good  natured  tolerance  upon  his 
round,  florid  countenance,  which  changed,  however,  to 
a  look  of  hatred  when  he  turned  to  the  reputed  mad 
woman. 

"Look,"  said  Simons  addressing  himself  to  Rachel 
Bolers,  his  face  becoming  hard,  stern  and  set;  "we've 
had  enough  of  this — be  off.  You're  a  public  nuisance; 
and,  if  you  continue  your  tantrums  about  the  country, 
I'll  have  you  placed  where  you  may  be  restrained  from 
driving  people  beside  themselves  with  your  foolery." 

"The  man,"  muttered  the  woman,  her  gaze  bent 
upon  the  ground, — "but  his  name — I  fiirgit,"  and  the 
subdued  creature  lifted  a  vacant  and  meaningless  eye 
to  the  attentive  countenances  about  her.  "Ah!"  she 
cried  abruptly,  raising  her  voice  once  more  to  the  high, 
weird  pitch  at  which  she  had  spoken  on  her  first  appear- 
ance; "I  know — I  left  him  and  his  name  in  th(!  wood 


144  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

by  the  river, — I'll  go  get  'em,  I  can't  see  the  sun,  when 
he 's  in  front  of  it, ' '  and,  with  a  movement  as  swift  and 
fleeting  as  that  by  which  in  the  beginning  she  had 
appeared,  the  mad  thing  was  gone — around  the  house 
and  out  through  the  fields  to  the  woods  and  river 
beyond,  in  the  course  whence  she  had  as  swiftly  though 
unnoted  come. 

There  was  a  feeling  of  general  relief  upon  her  dis- 
appearance, and  Brad  Simons  removing  his  hat  passed 
his  hand  over  his  burning  brow  as  though  suffering  from 
the  summer  heat. 

Bob  Likkum  never  forgot  this  scene;  and,  from  that 
day,  had  his  own  opinion  of  Simons;  but  was  forced  to 
keep  it  to  himself  in  the  face  of  the  mental  irresponsi- 
bility of  the  only  source  of  that  opinion. 

William  White  who,  up  to  this  time,  had,  in  the  state 
of  his  failure  to  learn  the  mad  woman's  secret,  main- 
tained a  discreet  silence  on  the  subject  of  his  enforced 
visit  to  the  caverns  in  the  hills,  saw  the  spectral  form  of 
Rachel  Bolers  disappear  with  a  feeling  of  renewed  fore- 
boding for  the  future  of  his  beloved,  De  Braddock, 
which  filled  him  with  unrest.  Still,  too  wise  to  give 
voice  to  his  apprehensions  where  no  tangible  reasons 
could  be  assigned,  the  troubled  writer  continued  silent. 
All  effort,  on  his  part,  to  solve  the  riddle  had,  so  far, 
failed. 

"John."  said  Brad  Simons  to  De  and  Mother  Brad- 
dock,  while  all  remained  standing  in  the  dooryard 
following  Rachel  Bolers'  departure,  "certainly  has 
enough  to  bear,  with  both  Nance's  mother  and  the 
brother  to  take  care  of ! "  The  speech  was  a  cunning 
one.  Brad,  in  its  delivery,  already  knew,  through  Tom 
Bolers,  of  John's  recent  letter  to  his  mother  in  Tom 
Bolers'  interest. 

And   Mother   Braddock,   remembering   John's   letter 


SHADOWS  CROSS  THE  SUN.  145 

bespeaking  their  friendly  offices  with  Brad  Simons  on 
behalf  of  Nance's  brother,  answered  with  a  sigh  and  an 
appealing  look  at  Simons. 

"Yes." 

And  the  sun  in  the  heavens  above  fell  under  complete 
shadow;  and  the  dog  whined,  and  Brad  Simons,  with  a 
look  of  coming  power,  fixed  his  gaze  upon  De. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


UNCLE    PETEE    BRADDOCK. 


""Well,  mother,  here  be  the  men — hungry  'nuff  t'eat 
ye  out  o'  house 'n  home,"  was  the  observation  of  Peter 
Braddoek,  by  the  country  people  familiarly  called 
"Uncle  Peter,"  when,  as  the  harvest  "hands,"  on  the 
evening  of  the  day  of  the  eclipse,  passed  on  to  the  bam 
with  the  horses,  he  came  stumbling  into  the  kitchen 
where  Mrs.  Braddock  was  preparing  supper. 

"All  right,  Peter;  right  away,"  answered  Mother, 
bustling  about. 

Uncle  Peter,  thus  satisfied,  went  on  to  the  barn  to 
join  his  neighbors. 

"De,"  called  Mother  Braddock  looking  around.  De 
was  nowhere  to  be  seen,  "Where,"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Braddock,  "kin  that  child  have  went." 

Mother  Braddock  had  just  lifted  her  head  previously 
bent  over  the  frying  pan  on  the  stove.  Her  face  was 
flushed  in  the  preparation  of  the  evening  meal.  She 
went  to  the  door  and  looked  out. 

It  was  dusking  a  little  in  the  west.  The  indescribable 
influence  of  approaching  evening  was  being  felt.  The 
solemn  hush  imperceptibly  creeping,  in  the  natural  clos- 
ing hours  of  the  day,  over  the  surrounding  fields  and 
landscape;  the  frogs  awakening  to  the  fact  that  it  was 
nearing  time  for  the  evening  concert;  the  drowsy  chirp 
of  the  crickets;  the  birds  welcoming  the  hour  of  nests 
and  rest,  and  uttering  soft,  low,  loving  chirpings  of 
"good  night;"   the   chickens   beginning   to   seek   their 

146 


UNCLE  PETER  BRADDOCK.  147 

roosts  in  the  trees ;  the  cattle  impressed  with  the  time  of 
stilly  moments  stealing  away  to  the  night's  great  high- 
way,— everytliing  was  conspiring  to  take  the  load  from 
the  back  of  day  and  transfer  it  to  the  waiting  caravan 
bound  through  those  mysterious  defiles  of  slumber, 
darkness  and  day's  surcease. 

Sleep !  The  tired  mind,  the  weary  soul,  the  loving 
slave  through  hours  and  days  and  nights  of  waking — 
sleep.  0  careworn,  sleep ;  0  heartache,  sleep.  0 
dreamer,  with  your  broken  dreams  and  broken  heart, 
sleep,  sleep.  Upon  the  toiling  day  and  far  advanced 
night  of  exhausted  effort,  toil  and  noble  aspiration,  drop 
the  balm  of  heaven 's  healing  slumber  and  oblivion ! 

At  the  barn.  Uncle  Peter  Braddock  and  the  men  were 
chatting,  joking  and  laughing  while  they  put  away  the 
horses  for  the  night,  after  a  day  of  harvest. 

The  barnyard,  enjoying  during  the  day  the  quietude 
of  absent  farm  life,  now  resounded  with  the  nickers  of 
horses  welcoming  their  evening  meal,  the  stamping  in 
the  stalls  of  horses'  feet,  and  the  sudden  explosion  of 
boisterous  and  hearty  laughter,  when  an  unusually  good 
jest  had  been  uttered,  or  where  the  ever  present  prac- 
tical joker,  creeping  slyly  up  behind  the  unwatchful 
countryman,  unexpectedly  tore  away  the  rudely  im- 
provised seat  of  rough  board  supporting  one  end  on  a 
log,  sending  the  resting  and  tired  harvester  sprawling 
upon  the  ground.  Snatches  of  vocal  country  melody 
primitively  appealing  to  the  unconventionally  erotic, 
and  otherwise,  were  offered  by  the  characteristic  musical 
genius  of  the  locality,  neighborhood  and  occasion,  and 
many  and  varied  sounds  of  hilarious  and  strong,  healthy 
life,  evidencing  the  men's  arrival  from  the  fields,  greeted 
the  ear. 

"Here,  ye  cub,"  shouted  Uncle  Peter,  seeking  the 
attention  of  the  fat  and  somewhat  easy-moving  Esau, 


148  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"where  air  ye?  Them  chickens  wants  tuh  be  looked 
arter.    Git  around.    Where  air  ye,  anyway  ? ' ' 

Esau,  the  generously  proportioned  farm  boy,  was 
spied,  at  this  point,  by  Uncle  Peter;  and  was  seen  to  be 
quite  indifferently  and  contentedly  enjoying  a  few 
moments  of  natural  relaxation,  in  social  intercourse  with 
one  of  the  farm  "hands,"  who  had  paused  at  the  wash 
bench,  in  the  farmer's  dooryard,  and  was  liberally 
dousing  his  face  in  a  tin  wash  basin  of  water.  Promptly 
and  unfeelingly  interrupting  an  intensely  interesting 
discussion  of  the  latest  doings  of  Black  Hank's  luridly 
and  dazzlingly  picturesque  aggregation  of  humane 
social  advantages — a  conversation  being  animatedly 
carried  on  by  the  ' '  hand ' '  and  Esau — Peter  yelled : 

"Ye  lazy,  shiftless  crittur,  ye,  git  to  them  there 
chickens,  will  ye  ?  Ye  feed  'em — yet  let  'em  stray  'way, 
ye  do!"  Peter  was  a  little  severe,  but  it  was  country 
life.  "Them  Plymouth  Rocks  is  darn  nigh  all  bu'sted, 
ovan'  to  ye,  ye  cub,  an'  them  Leghorns  hev'  gone,  with 
them  Cochin  Chinies,  on  the'r  legs  to  China,  fur  all  I 
know. ' ' 

Esau  grumbled  some ;  but  knew  better  than  to  thwart 
the  old  man,  and  wrenched  himself  from  the  fascina- 
tions of  discussing  thieves  and  outlaws.  He  went  about 
his  farm  duties  as  directed. 

"Peter,"  complained  a  neighbor — neighbors  in  those 
days  helped  each  other  in  their  farm  work  and  harvest- 
ing, in  return  for  like  assistance.  "I'm  e'en  a 'most 
starved. ' ' 

Peter  Braddock,  with  cheerful  inhumanity,  ignored 
this  said  plaint  and  merely  remarked  casually,  as  he 
coolly  abstracted  a  piece  of  harness  from  a  horse  he  was 
stripping  for  the  night, 

"Heerd,  terday,  'at  Brad— Brad  Simons  an'  Tom 
Boler  uz  got  inter  some  kind  uv  trubble   er   other— 


UNCLE  PETER  BRADDOCK  149 

Tom's  b'en  up  to  some  uv  'is  mischief,  ag'in,  I  reckon. 

The  suffering  harvester  in  somber  silence  responded 
to  his  unappeased  pangs  of  hunger,  by  kicking  vig- 
orously though  ineffectually  at  a  passing  cockerel,  as 
though  he  might  have  harbored  a  cannibalistic  desire  of 
dispatching  the  fowl  and  consuming  it  uncooked. 

"Don't  know  nothin'  about  it.  I  say,  Peter," 
stoutly  persisted  the  distressed  subject,  "I'm  dyin'  fer 
food,  I  tell  ye." 

"I  calk 'late,"  said  Peter,  continuing  to  bear  a  load 
of  responsibility  for  human  life  with  unexampled  com 
posure,    "'at    they    say    John    had    a    row    weth    Zcke 
Smithin,   t'other   day — threatened   ter   kill    the    orn'ry 
cuss,  John  did." 

"Wouldn't  hurt  none,  ef  John  blowed  'is  dratted 
head  off — I'm  nearly  dead,  ye  ol'  hayrake,"  retorted 
the  auditor,  with  vicious  emphasis. 

At  this  time,  Uncle  Peter  Braddoek  was  as  mach  in 
the  dark  as  anyone  concerning  the  "hold."  which 
those  of  that  locality  had  come  to  perceive,  in  s]>ite  of 
an  attempt  made  by  John  Braddoek  to  keep  the  forgery 
quiet,  that  Brad  Simons  possessed  of  Tom  Bolers,  John- 
Braddoek 's  worthless  brother  in  law.  It  must,  also,  be 
understood  that,  up  to  this  moment.  Uncle  Peter  had 
experienced  no  opportunity  of  learning  the  contents  of 
John's  letter  to  his  mother.  Bej'-ond  this  letter,  De's 
brother  had  made  no  confidant  of  his  faiiiily  in  these 
whispered  troubles  in  which  Nano«'s  brother  was  sup- 
posed to  take  so  prominent  a  part.  And,  so  far  as  con- 
cerned the  mine  that  was  surely  forming  under  the 
doomed  farmer  and  his  devoted  house,  it  may  be  said 
the  old  gentleman  was  mercifully  unconscious. 

And  while  the  evening  came  down,  Mother  Braddoek 
stood  at  the  kitchen  door  and  looked  for  De.  Standing 
and  straining  her  gaze  in  the  slowing  gathering  dark- 


150  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

ness,  Martha  Braddock  gave  an  exclamation  of  soiiie 
wonder. 

"Sakes  alive!  why  that  be  her,  the  child's  a-comin' 
thro'  the  pastur'.  Wonder  now  what,  in  blessed  mem- 
'ry!  takes  her  out  thar'?  Wall,  I'm  blest!"  said  Mrs. 
Braddock  astutely,  after  a  slight  pause  spent  in  discreet 
communion  with  herself;  "I  jes'  won't  say  nothin',  't 
all,  to  Peter,  'cause  gals  will  be  gals,  but  if  that  little 
minx  ain't  a-bin  over  there  'ith  Billy  Wliite.  Yes,  sir," 
said  Martha  with  positive  emphasis,  "that  be  his  straw 
hat  clippin'  past  the  woods,  now.  They  jes'  made  it  up, 
I  do  b'lieve,  I  do,"  and  communing  thus  with  herself 
Mother  Braddock  peered  into  the  distance  with  in- 
creased interest. 

Whatever  intimation  "Billy"  White  may  have  con- 
veyed to  De  Braddock  concerning  his  subsequent  inten- 
tions, he  had  certainly  beaten  a  hasty  retreat  from  the 
premises  of  Peter  Braddock  in  anticipation  of  the  arriv- 
al of  the  farmer  and  his  following  of  rustic  critics  from 
the  harvest  field;  and  had  transferred  the  scene  of  his 
operations  to  the  banks  of  the  neighboring  river,  wJiere 
a  stretch  of  wood  streaked  the  last  gleams  of  the  even- 
ing sky. 

' '  Vow !  I  seen  his  straw  hat.  Now,  what 's  she  bin  up 
to,  wonder,"  said  Mother  Braddock  below  her  breath. 
"Wisht  Peter  an'  them  pesky  folks  'd  stop  makin'  fun 
o'  Billy  an'  his  his  po'try  and  writin'.  Th'  ain't  no 
barm  in  him,  as  I  kin  see,  an'  they  on'y  drive  the  feller 
off.  Wonder  ef  De,  raley, — "  by  this  time  the  subject 
of  her  mother's  speculations  had  passed  through  the 
big  gate,  back  of  the  barn,  crossed  the  barnyard  and 
entered  the  houseyard  by  the  gate  in  the  picket  fence, 
and  thence  come  straight  to  where  her  mother  was 
standing  in  the  kitchen  door  in  the  growing  dusk  of  the 
twilight. 


UNCLE  PETER  BRADDOCK.  151 

"De,  child,"  said  Mrs.  Braddock  giving  the  sur- 
rounding heavens  the  pretense  of  an  elaborate  exami- 
nation as  the  engaging  maid  tripped  to  her  mother's 
side,  "I  was  surmisin'  be  it  'bout  ter  rain.  Can't  make 
out,  nohow.  What  d'  you  think?"  and  Mother  Brad- 
dock  again  swept  the  horizon  with  great  anxiety  appar- 
ent in  her  manner. 

"Aren't  they  getting  the  harvest  in,  all  right?" 
asked  the  daughter,  letting  her  sight  follow  her  mother's 
to  the  gentle  evening  heavens. 

"B'lieve  they  be,"  replied  Martha  Braddock,  to 
whom  the  long  continuation  of  false  pretenses  and  ap- 
pearances was  criminal  in  her  truthful  soul.  She  gave 
a  further  poorly  affected  glance  of  scrutiny  at  the  sky, 
and  asked  in  a  casual  manner, 

"Seen  Billy  White's  straw  hat  out  there,  jes'  now, 
didn't  I?" 

"Oh,  yes,  maw,"  responded  the  girl  with  perfect 
readiness.  "William  was  out  there,  by  the  river,  writ- 
ing.   I  left  him  talking  with  a  tramp. ' ' 

Out  on  the  banks  of  Lost  River,  William  White  was 
saying : 

"Can't  you  get  work?" 

The  question  was  addressed  to  a  man  of  seedy  ap- 
pearance, but  one  who  wore  a  certain  air  of  free  and 
independent  bearing  that  distinguished  him  from  the 
ordinary  type  of  the  destitute.  His  hands  bore  the 
tattoo  marks  of  the  seafaring;  he  was  strong  and  mus- 
cular, and  appeared  willing  and  anxious  to  work.  When 
he  took  off  his  hat  he  uncovered  a  ragged  scar  which 
showed  above  his  brows. 

"P  can't  get  work,"  answered  the  man,  "an'  they'd 
as  soon  I  wuz  dead  and  rotting  in  the  fields." 
"You  mean  they  that  will  not  give  you  work?" 
"I  mean  them,  'at '11  not  gimme  no  job,"  replied  the 


152  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

man  under  examination.  "It's  a  hard  biz'ness  when  ye 
wants  a  bit  o'  work,  an'  can't  get  it.  Oh,  yes,  it's  easy 
enough  then  to  say,  'Wat's  the  use!'  an',  crack,  an' 
it's  all  off,"  and  the  speaker  illustrated  the  meaning  of 
his  speech  by  presenting  an  imaginary  revolver  at  his 
head  and  pulling  an  imaginary  trigger. 

' '  I  wouldn  't  do  that,  if  I  were  you, ' '  said  White. 

"No,  sir,  I  wouldn't  either.  I  don't  believe  nothin', 
nohow,  in  sooiecide.  It's  thievin';  it's  takin'  w'at  ain't 
yer  own — yer  life  belongs  as  much  to  God  an'  yer  feller 
creatures,  ez  it  does  to  yerself.  But  it's  discouragin', 
sir,  at  times, —  'tis,  indeed,  to  the  best  uv  'em;  an'  that's 
a  fack, "  pursued  White's  chance  discourser.  "The 
only  place  I  got  a  chance,  since  I  kum  into  this  here 
state  uv  Injanny,  wuz  with  darn  thieves;  and  ruther'n 
stay  with  that  kind  o'  cattle  I  quit.  I  believe  it's  better 
ter  be  'onest.  My  mother  taught  me  that  much,  ef  I'm 
a  pretty  ugly  ol'  hulk  er  not." 

"You  say  you  got  a  chance  among  'thieves'?"  que- 
ried William  White,  whose  thoughts  quickly  and  natu- 
rally reverted  to  the  experience  he  himself  had  recently 
gone  through  with  the  outlaws. 

"Ye 're  right,  cap'n, — that's  what  they  wuz,"  replied 
the  man. 

It  suddenly,  like  an  inspiration,  flashed  across  the 
mind  of  White  that  this  might  be  the  tramp  whose 
unexplained  disappearance,  on  the  night  of  his  own 
secret  and  compulsory  introduction  into  the  outlaws' 
cave,  had  given  the  leader  of  the  desperadoes  such  con- 
cern. If  so,  would  he  likely  know  anything  of  use  to 
De's  lover,  in  search  for  information  as  to  the  meaning 
of  his  own  involuntary  visit  to  the  freebooter's  resort? 
The  man  might  be — doubtless  was — honest,  as  he  him- 
self had  said;  it  would  be  well  to  find  out  what  the 
tramp  knew. 


UNCLE  PETER  BRADDOCK.  153 

"I  suppose  you  had  trouble  with  those  thieves,  you 
speak  of,  and  left  them?"  cautiously  began  White. 

"Didn't  go  fur  enough  to  have  trouble  with  'em," 
replied  the  writer's  needy  companion. 

"How  did  you  find  them  out — discover  they  were 
wrong,  then?"  asked  the  other. 

"Why,  see  here,  mister,  I  don't  v.-ant  to  git  into  no 
onnecessary  trouble,  if  they's  nothin'  to  gain  by  it  to 
you  er  me, ' '  said  the  man  prudently. 

"You  can  trust  me,  if  you  care  to  speak,"  returned 
White.    "  It  is  possible  I  can  help  you. ' ' 

"Why,  ye  see,  then,  stranger,"  rejoined  the  writer's 
informant,  casting  a  slow  glance  about  as  if  to  make 
sure  no  third  person  was  in  hearing,  "these  here  fel- 
lers, w'at  I  tell  you  uv,  wuz — " 

"Yes — yes,"  exclaimed  the  eager  listener,  his  inter- 
est growing  into  impatience,  as  the  other  hesitated ;  "  go 
on. 

" — \\T.iz,"  went  on  the  tramp,  even  more  slowly, 
"a-carryin'  off  a  man." 

His  o\vn  abduction.  White  saw,  had  been  witnessed  by 
his  chance  acquaintance. 

"They  were  carrying  off  a  man,  were  they?"  ob- 
served the  interested  writer  carelessly.  "A  pleasant 
occupation,  I  should  say.  And  you  sav/  them  doing 
it?" 

"I  seen  'em,  sure  enough,"  was  the  ready  reply. 

"Could  you  recognize  the  man?" 

"Can't  say.     'Twuz  too  dark." 

"And  about  when  was  this?" 

The  tramp  described  time  and  locality,  clearly 
showing  he  had  been  present  upon  the  occasion  of  the 
writer's  adventure.  In  the  instincts  which  had  already 
prompted  the  lover  of  De  to  believe  in  the  tramp's 
honesty,  the   former  readily  conceived  the*  purpose  of 


154  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

employing  his  new  ally  to  secretly  track  the  outlaws, 
who  were  apparently  concerned  in  matters  affecting 
De  Braddock's  interests,  and  attempt  to  uncover  their 
designs.  Of  course,  it  w^as  possible  that  the  seemingly 
haphazard  meeting,  in  the  woods,  might  be  ^^^th  one  who 
had  been  sent  by  the  thieves  themselves  to  spy  upon 
him;  but  William  White  put  this  supposition  aside,  and 
chose  to  follow  his  first  impulse  to  trust  his  strange 
acquaintance. 

' '  You  did  not  know  I  was  the  man, ' '  remarked  White, 
"they  'carried  off'?" 

The  companion  of  the  writer's  experience  evinced, 
by  his  manner  and  reply,  a  surprise  too  genuine  for  even 
a  lingering  suspicion  to  find  further  place  in  the  ques- 
tioner's mind. 

Trust  one,  at  all,  trust  him  fully,  is  some  part  of  wis- 
dom. Once  committed  to  the  course  which  had  sug- 
gested itself,  the  literary  man  lost  no  time  in  putting 
the  other  in  possession  of  sufficient  knowledge  of  affairs 
to  give  him  an  intelligent  understanding  of  White's 
wants;  and  there  was  formed  an  alliance,  which  was 
destined  to  bring  the  most  important  and  valuable  re- 
sults; but  it  was  not  until  the  heroism  of  De  Braddock 
herself  had  inspired  the  tramp  friend  of  White  with  a 
species  of  idolatry  for  the  girl,  whom  William  was  try- 
ing to  serve,  that  the  entire  country-  was  laid  under 
tribute  by  the  courageous  wayfarer  to  secure  her  safety 
and  escape  from  the  toils  of  Brad  Simons  and  his  kind. 

"Marthy,  woman,"  said  Uncle  Peter  Braddock,  who 
now  came  up  to  De  and  her  mother,  "them  men  is 
pow'rful  hungry,  an'  wouldn't  be  't  all  sa-prised  ef  ye 
didn't  hev'  ter  pos'pone  yer  talkin',  ye  an'  De  thar',  an' 
git  'em  somep'n  ter  eat.  B'en  a-pesterin'  Bob  Likkum, 
ag'in,  ye  sassy  baggage?"  said  Uncle  Peter  pinching  his 


UNCLE  PETER  BRADDOCK.  155 

daughter's  fair  cheek.  "Seen  him,  jes'  now.  Sez  he 
brought  a  letter  frum  John." 

"Yes,  Peter;  I'll  tell  ye  all  about  it,  d'reckly,"  upon 
which  remark  Mrs.  Braddock,  dutifully  assisted  'by  her 
daughter,  addressed  herself  to  the  final  preparations 
for  the  evening  meal. 

Uncle  Peter  Braddock  had  commenced  life  when  the 
more  primitive  farm  methods  were  yet  in  vogue.  The 
first  ditching  machine  had  filled  the  old  man's  soul  with 
wonder.  The  change  in  plows  and  the  gradual  develop- 
ment of  the  reaper  and  thresher  had  been  revolutions 
of  the  universe  to  him  and  to  his  associates.  He  was 
tall,  straight  and  splendidly  rugged.  His  age  was  sixty. 
His  dark  hair  was  just  beginning  to  turn  iron  gray ;  but 
his  deepset  eyes  were  still  bright  and  piercing.  His 
features  were  strong,  a  little  bony,  vigorous  and  truth- 
ful, and  pointed  by  the  oldtime  tuft  of  whiskers  on  the 
end  of  the  chin. 

His  type  is  passing  away.  New  men  and  new  methods 
are  claiming  the  allegiance  to  the  past  as  theirs ;  and 
only  the  hollow  echoes  of  the  old  days  ring  both  with 
the  faint  far  off  notes  of  the  pioneer's  axe  and  his  lusty, 
triumphant  shout  swelling  the  volume  of  sound  through 
the  glades  of  his  uncleared  land. 

The  evening  meal  was  over  and  Peter  Braddock  fol- 
lowed Martha  out  to  the  springhouse. 

"Where  be  De?"  said  the  old  man.  "Brad's  comin', 
this  evenin'." 

"I  dunno,  father,  where  De  be,"  responded  Mrs. 
Braddock,  setting  down  a  crock  of  milk  near  the  cool, 
running  spring  water.  Mrs.  Braddock  did  know  where 
De  was, 

"Brad's  got  lots  of  money,"  observed  Uncle  Peter. 

"Yes,  paw,"  dutifully  assented  Mother  Braddock. 

"What  d'ye  think?"  asked  Peter. 


156  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"Well,  the  gal  ought  to  hev'  her  own  ch'ice,"  replied 
Peter's  helpmate. 

"I  don't  think  much  o'  thet  there  Billy  White,  'ith 
his  writin'  things,"  said  the  old  man. 

"Nothin'  wrong  uv  'im,"  rejoined  the  other. 

' '  See  here. ' '  Uncle  Peter  was  beginning  to  say,  when 
he  ceased  abruptly.  His  face  took  on  a  listening  ex- 
pression. "Who's  that,  'round  in  front,  talkin?"  he 
asked. 

Martha  "didn't  know."  She  did,  though.  It  was 
Billy  White  and  De  at  the  gate.  Mrs.  Braddock's  sym- 
pathies were  all  with  her  daughter. 

"I'll  jes'  go  'round  an'  see,"  remarked  Peter  sus- 
piciously. As  he  turned  away  he  said :  ' '  We  '11  keep  the 
parson,  to-night." 

]\Iartha  Braddock  would  have  prevented  her  husband 
from  interfering  with  the  lovers  had  it  been  in  her 
power.  As  it  was,  she  went  back  to  the  house  full  of 
disquiet. 

Peter  Braddock,  an  honest  and  well  disposed  farmer, 
but  one  possessed  of  a  conviction  that  his  daughter 
could  not  advance  her  interests  by  a  marriage  with  a 
man  who  squandered  his  time  writing  books,  walked 
soberly  around  the  house  and,  so  engaged  were  they  in 
each  other,  came  upon  De  and  White  before  they  were 
aware  of  his  approach.  White  was  standing  in  the  road 
without,  close  to  the  gate,  and  De  was  leaning  on  the 
gate,  on  the  other  side  from  her  lover. 

"Whut  ye  two  doin',  here?"  inquired  the  farmer 
bluntly. 

The  two  young  people  were  silent. 

"Will'um,"  said  Peter  Braddock,  "I  know'd  yer 
father,  old  Sam  White,  'afore  ye,  an'  I  can't  hev' 
nothin'  'cept  the  kindes'  feelin's  fur  his  boy, — but,  ye 
know,  my  gal  is  all  mother  an'  me  's  got.    Book  writin's 


UNCLE  PETER  BRADDOCK.      157 

nothin',  an'  I  hain't  said  it,  yit,  but  I  say  it,  now,  thet 
nothin'  ser'us  kin  kum  uv  this  here  nonsense,  'atween 
ye  two;  an'  I  sez,  ternight,  ye'd  better  not  come  aroun'. 
Huh?" 

"Father,"  remonstrated  De,  in  shocked  surprise. 

"He  knows  what  I  think  uv  his  callin',"  said  the  old 
farmer,  obstinately;  "it's  thet  of  a  beggar."  He  was  in 
for  it,  now, — the  old  man  was,— and  he  was  going  to  see 
it  through. 

Since  White's  loss  in  the  bank  robbery,  Mr.  Braddock 
had  been  unusually  severe  with  the  author.  If  William's 
means,  before  the  writer's  impoverishment,  did  not  re- 
deem the  writer's  prejudiced  calling  in  that  community 
of  early  soil  workers,  little  less  did  Uncle  Peter  now 
view  with  favor  that  which,  at  best,  appealed  to  him  as 
an  entirely  impractical  vocation;  the  concluding  senti- 
ment of  which  comforting  and  highly  satisfactory 
opinion  has  been  shared  by  later  and  greatly  advanced 
wisdom. 

"Mr.  Braddock,"  White,  flushing  in  the  darkness, 
began,  when  he  was  interrupted  by  De's  father. 

"I've  said  my  say,"  dogmatically  asserted  Uncle 
Peter,  whose  ordinarily  easy  going  nature  was  here  irri- 
tated by  opposition,  "an'  I  don't  want  no  back  talk." 
He  felt  better,  too,  with  some  excuse  for  his  extraordi- 
nary conduct  to  the   literary  object  of  his  condemnation. 

White  turned  as  if  to  go,  but,  appearing  prompted  by 
second  thought,  turned  back. 

"Mr.  Braddock,  I'm  sorry  to  be  forced  into  words 
with  you,  in  presence  of  your  daughter,  but  I  must  tell 
you  I  am  no  beggar." 

"Don't  keer;  ye  can't  make  your  salt  out  o'  po'try 
writin'  an'  sieh, — ye  know  it,"  stoutly  persisted  Brad- 
dock, his  tones  expressing  an  uncompromising  finality. 

Had  William  White  let  the  matter  rest  there  it  might 


158  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

have  been  well.  He  rejoined,  spurred  by  the  presence 
of  the  woman  he  loved, 

"My  calling  is  as  good  as  that  of  a  plowman." 

Peter  Braddock,  with  the  deep  and  abiding  pride  of 
a  pioneer  of  the  soil,  looked,  for  a  moment,  as  if  he  could 
not  believe  his  ears.  He  swelled  in  the  righteousness  of 
his  wrath.  A  book  writer  as  good  as  a  plo-wman — and 
the  secret  sneer  at  a  tiller  of  the  soil  lurking,  from  a 
"literary  feller,"  in  the  use  of  the  word  "plowman!" 

"Will'um  White,  ye 're  crazy,"  cried  the  old  Hoosier, 
as  soon  as  he  was  able  to  collect  his  scattered  senses.  I 
won't  do  my  da'ter  the  onjestice  to  think  she  ever  cared 
fer  ye,  anyway."  De  was  trying  to  stop  the  coming 
flood  with  her  hands  on  her  father's  shoulders.  "Ye 
don't  kum  here,  anymore,"  cried  the  old  man  in  tones 
growing  louder  and  louder.  "Book  writin'  ez  good  's 
plo"wdn'!  De,  go  to  yer  mother."  The  girl  went  slowly 
as  bidden.  "Now,  see  here,  Mr,  White,"  concluded 
Peter  Braddock;  "there  ain't  nothin'  's  good  ez  'n 
'onest  farmer,"  and  Uncle  Peter,  in  the  heat  of  temper, 
betrayed  into  vanity,  turned,  in  his  fury,  from  the  lit- 
erary man  and  followed  De  into  the  house. 

! '  There ! ' '  said  the  old  fellow,  a  moment  after,  to 
Mother  Braddock;  "I  giv'  thet  thare  young  freshet, 
Billy  White,  a  piece  uv  my  mind;  an'  he  don't  come 
aroun'  here  no  more." 

Mother  Braddock  only  sighed. 

They  were  all  gathered  together  in  the  good,  old 
fashioned  country  parlor.  Here  was  a  piano,  however, 
given  to  De  by  her  mother.  A  pretty  pattern  of  ' '  store ' ' 
carpet  of  De's  own  selection  covered  the  floor.  Simple 
pictures  adorned  the  walls,  and  neat,  white  curtains, 
daintily  caught  up  at  the  sides  with  red  ribbons  bought 
by  De  with  her  chicken  and  egg  money  of  a  passing 
peddler,  added  their  own  little  touch  of  feminine  charm 


UNCLE  PETER    BRADDOCK.  159 

to  the  room.  On  the  center  table,  in  state,  lay  the  family 
bible  containing,  in  Peter  Braddock's  strong,  character- 
istic writing,  the  records  of  his  family  tree  —  births, 
marriages  and  deaths.  A  banjo,  the  gift  to  De  of  Will- 
iam White,  rested  in  respected  silence  in  one  corner  of 
the  apartment,  testifying  thus  mutely  and  eloquently  to 
the  tuneful  soul  of  the  exiled  donor. 

Parson  Woods  was  present  being  "put  up"  for  the 
night  and  Bob  Likkum  had  stopped  by  as  he  drove 
home  in  the  democrat,  in  the  evening,  from  The  Forks, 
north  of  the  Braddock  farm. 

De,  at  the  piano,  was  singing;  Bob  Likkum,  with  his 
long,  thin  legs  crossed  and  twisted  one  around  the  other, 
was  nursing  his  knees  with  both  hands,  and  Parson 
Woods,  sitting  near  the  piano,  with  eyes  closed  and  head 
reclining  against  a  high  backed  chair,  was  drinking  in 
the  rich  melody  of  the  young  singer's  voice,  when  there 
appeared  at  the  open  door,  through  which  stole  the 
faint,  sweet  scent  of  roses,  the  sleek,  robust,  unctious 
form  of  Brad  Simons. 

Mrs.  Braddock,  who  sat  with  some  knitting  within 
easy  reach  of  the  red-shaded  lamp,  which  sat  upon  the 
center  table,  at  once  arose  and,  lowering  a  little  the 
smoking  flame,  as  the  singing  ceased  advanced  in  the 
direction  of  Simons. 

"Speak  him  fair,  father,"  Mrs.  Braddock  contented 
herself  with  saying  in  a  low  voice  as  she  passed  her  hus- 
band, "and  I'll  tell  ye  about  it  later." 

Uncle  Peter  got  to  his  feet  and  greeted  Simons,  who 
could  make  as  good  an  entrance  and,  with  a  fair  field 
and  no  favors,  infuse  as  much  entertainment  into  a 
social  gathering  as  the  next. 

De  alone  hung  back.  Simons  noticed  her  coldness  and 
came  to  her  side  as  she  sat  at  the  piano. 

"Miss  Delia,"  said  Brad  Simons,  with  marked  em- 


160  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

phasis  and  out  of  all  custom  pronouncing  the  girl's  full 
name,  "it  never  came  my  way  to  call  you  by  the  short 
cut  most  folks  use.  Your  full  name's  such  a  pretty  one, 
that—" 

"Call  me  what  the  other's  call  me  or  nothing,"  re- 
sponded the  girl,  a  touch  of  shortness  in  her  tones, 
which,  if  it  escaped  the  others,  did  not  escape  Simons  or, 
in  fact,  Robert  Likkum. 

"Miss — ]Miss  De,"  replied  Simons  affecting  a  gal- 
lantry, and  pretending  to  stumble  over  asumed  difficul- 
ties of  the  situation,  "that  being  the  case,  I  shall  call 
you  by  the  name  you  like  best,  from  this  to  the  end; 
for,"  continued  the  speaker,  apparently  bent  on  being 
agreeable,  '  'tis  better  to  have  called  and  lost,  than  never 
to  have  called,  at  all.'  "  Upon  communicating  this  neat 
bit  of  paraphrase  or  sentiment  to  any  or  all  minded  to 
listen.  Brad  Simons  smiled  pleasantly,  showed  a  set  of 
strong,  white  teeth  and  turned  companionably  to  the 
company.  He  squared  himself  on  his  feet,  with  folded 
arms,  and  planted  himself,  in  an  easy,  familiar  attitude, 
with  his  back  against  the  piano;  and  continued  to  smile 
sociably. 

"Will  any  of  you  go  down  to  camp  meeting,  next 
Monday?"  affably  pursued  Bradford  Simons  fixed  upon 
prosecuting  his  intentions  to  be  agreeable  and  entertain- 
ing, in  spite  of  a  certain  constraint  which,  except  in  the 
case  of  Uncle  Peter  and  possibly  Parson  Woods,  had 
seemed  to  settle  on  the  company  upon  Brad's  arrival. 

"P'raps,"  said  Uncle  Peter  who,  at  this  point,  al- 
though entirely  failing  in  comprehension  touching  its 
significance,  bore  in  mind  "mother's"  injunction  "to 
speak  Simons  fair;"  which,  together  with  his  own 
partial  bias  in  favor  of  Brad,  keyed  him  to  quite  a 
tension  of  urbanity. 

Bob  cleared  his  throat.    "Ye  all  know  th'  old  song," 


UNCLE  PETER  BRADDOCK.  161 

pleasantly  observed  Robert,  as  he  proceeded  to  render  a 
bar  of  the  vocal  number  which  appeared  to  be,  at  that 
moment,  working  in  his  own  recollection, 

I'll  tell  ye  uv  a  feller — 

Uv  a  feller  I  hev'  seen, 
He's  nuther  white,  nur  yeller. 

But  he's  altogether  green; 

He  kem,  las'  night,  ter  see  me, 
An'  he  made  so  long  a  stay, 

I  begin  ter  think  ther  blockhead 
Never  meant  ter  go  away.'  " 

Bob  was  so  skilful  in  the  execution  of  this  pointed 
musical  number,  and  presented  it  in  a  manner  appar- 
ently at  once  so  impersonal  and  innocent,  that,  it  is  pos- 
sible, none  beyond  himself.  Brad  Simons  and  De  Avere 
conscious  of  the  meaning  behind  Likkum's  graceful  and 
tune-lacking  effort. 

"Haw,  havv,  haw,"  burst  from  Farmer  Braddock; 
why,  for  the  life  of  him,  he  could  not  have  told. 

I\Irs.  Braddock  had  disappeared,  but  now  returned 
with  a  liberal  supply  of  refreshments  consisting  of 
gingerbread,  apples  and  one  of  her  select  bottles  of  best 
elderberry  wine. 

"That  was  a  brilliant  effort  of  yours,  Robert,"  ob- 
served Simons,  with  an  effort  to  appear  unconscious. 

"Glad,"  said  Bob,  "you  liked  it.  Thought  you  might 
not." 

De  had  a  growing  sense  of  "a  friend  at  court"  in  Bob 
Likkum. 

"Hem,"  coughed  Uncle  Peter. 

Mother  Braddock  looked  a  trifle  worried;  as  she  might 
well  have  been. 

Simons  Vv^isely  concluded  to  dodge  the  issue. 


162  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"I  was  over  to  to-vvn,  the  other  day,  and  saw  John," 
said  he,  looking  around  the  room  at  the  various  occu- 
pants, and  endeavoring  to  casually  if  not  naturally  fix 
the  attention  of  Uncle  Peter  and  Martha. 

"Oh,  yes,"  a  little  eagerly  began  Mother  Braddock; 
"I  jes'  got  a  letter  frum  him." 

Brad  wondered  how  far  his  enforced  and  unpleasant 
agent  Tom  Bolers  had  opened  the  way  for  his  own 
further  interesting  operations  in  the  matter  of  securing 
the  hand  of  Martha's  daughter. 

"Do  you  hear  often  from  John?"  Simons  asked 
carelessly  of  De's  mother. 

"Johnnie  never  writes  'cept  w'en  he  hez  somethin' 
partikler  to  say,"  answered  Mrs.  Braddock. 

Brad  looked  at  De.  He,  again,  wondered  how  far 
this  particular  thing,  at  this  time  inspiring  John  Brad- 
dock  to  write  home,  had  extended  towards  favoring  his 
own  passion  for  the  girl  beside  him.  It  was  almost  on 
his  tongue  to  put  some  form  of  his  thought  into  words. 

' '  John, ' '  instead,  he  slowly  observed,  ' '  seemed  to  have 
a — "  Brad  appeared  to  hesitate — "some  unpleasantness 
with  that  fellow  Zeke  Smithin,  when  I  saw  him. ' ' 

Uncle  Peter  nodded  his  head.  He  had  heard  of  it, 
too. 

"Wall,  Zeke  ain't  the  fu'st  citizen  in  the  love  uv 
his  countrymen,"  remarked  Bob  Likkum.  "He's  orful 
orn'ry — orn'ry  'nuff  to  be  killed,"  continued  the  speak- 
er, however  unaware,  as  yet,  of  the  serious  threat  John 
Braddock  had  leveled  at  the  subject  of  their  discussion. 

Brad  glanced  thoughtfully  at  Likkum:  "John  threat- 
ened to  do  it — to  kill  him, ' '  said  he. 

"Did  he?"  said  Bob,  curiously. 

"Yes,"  said  Brad. 

There  was  a  feeling  of  interest  in  the  room.  John 
Braddock  was  known  to  deal  in  few  meaningless  ex- 


UNCLE  PETER  BRADDOCK.  163 

pressions.  If  he  had  menaced  Zeke,  he-  had  had  strong 
reason  for  doing  so.    The  company  was  silent. 

"It  wouldn't  be  much  loss,"  at  last  said  Bob,  uncon- 
sciously voicing  the  sentiments  of  the  farmer  who,  in  the 
barnyard  that  same  evening,  had  reckoned  with  Uncle 
Peter  on  Smithin's  alleged  worthlessness. 

"Don't  know  but  whut  you're  about  right,  Bob," 
assented  old  Peter  Braddock,  drumming  thoughtfully 
with  his  fingers  on  the  arm  of  his  chair.  "Zeke's  awful 
triflin',  I  tell  you.  Kem  aroun'  the  place,  here,  t'other 
day,  he  did — mebbe  arter  his  affair  with  John.  He  got 
so  brash,  I  driv'  him  off'n  the  place,  I  did.  He  went 
away  mutterin'  threats,  an'  growlin'  out  about  the  red 
cock  crowin '  in  ther  barn. ' ' 

"Oh,  father,"  exclaimed  Mother  Braddock,  "d'ye 
know  what  that  means ?  That's  Gipsy  talk.  That  means 
he  '11  burn  the  barn  ! ' ' 

"Guess  not,"  satisfiedly  returned  the  old  man. 

Uncle  Peter  had  no  sooner  given  utterance  to  these 
last  words  than, 

"Fire,"  yelled  the  fat  farmboy  Esau,  dashing  wildly 
into  the  room.  The  boy  was  fat  enough  and  his  face  red 
enough,  and  he  appeared  conspicuous  enough  in  the  in- 
stantaneous confusion  that  resulted  from  his  sudden 
entrance  and  announcement.  They  all  rushed  pell  mell, 
helter  skelter  out  to  the  stable,  which  Esau  pantingly 
added  was  the  unlucky  object  being  consumed.  There 
was  a  smart  wind  and  the  flames  had  gained  surprising 
headvv^ay.  Peter  Braddock  dashed  into  the  threatened 
and  burning  building  for  the  horses,  calling  on  volun- 
teers to  follow,  which  were  supplied  readily  enough. 
Bob  Likkum  with  Brad  Simons  excitedly  ran  for  water 
buckets.  The  horses  in  safety.  Uncle  Peter  joined  the 
bucket  brigade.  The  flames  were  licking  up  the  dry 
outside  wall  of  the  barn  to  the  eaves ;  and  the  surround- 


164  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

ing  barnyard,  the  farmhouse  on  the  other  side  of  the 
picket  fence  forming  one  side  of  the  barnyard  enclosure, 
the  pump  and  the  thousand  and  one  minutia  breaking 
the  way  to  the  fields  around  were  shining  clear  in  the 
ominous  and  sinister  light.  Back  of  it  all,  at  a  distance 
beyond,  banking  up  in  a  dark  mass,  stood  the  woods 
fringing  the  margin  of  Lost  River. 

"Git  a  ladder  over  thare,  quick,"  shouted  Uncle 
Peter  pointing  to  where,  a  little  way  off  from  the  barn, 
one  lay  balanced  across  an  unused  and  disabled  hayrake 
in  the  barnyard. 

Esau  raced,  fairly  raced,  for  a  fat  boy,  and  got  the 
ladder. 

"Stick  it  up  here,"  commanded  Uncle  Peter  fiercely, 
indicating  rapidly  the  point  of  vantage  at  which  he 
thought  the  fire  might  be  most  effectively  combated. 
"  I  'd  like  ter  hev '  ahol '  o '  who  done  this, ' '  hissed  the  old 
man  between  his  set  teeth.  He  sensed,  at  last,  the  full 
meaning,  of  mother's  expressive  words  about  "Gipsy 
talk,"  and  the  possible  relation  of  its  late  hostile  em- 
ployer Zeke  Smithin  to  the  present  impending  calamity. 

The  ladder  was  "stuck  up"  as  directed  by  the  ener- 
getic and  determined  farmer,  and  the  women  continued 
working  with  the  men  to  supply  sufficient  water;  men 
and  women,  under  Bob  Likkum's  prompt,  skilful  and 
effective  management,  alike  forming,  as  near  as  possible, 
a  continuous  and  unbroken  line  along  which  to  pass 
buckets  from  the  pump  to  the  fire. 

The  great,  massive  barn  door  had  originally  been 
swung  by  means  of  common,  strong,  iron  hinges,  the 
latter,  in  the  course  of  time,  much  worn,  and  the  one  at 
the  top  of  the  door  having  recently  become  broken  a 
stout  leather  hinge  had  taken  its  place.  The  flames  had 
eaten  away  this  leather  substitute,  and  the  huge  blazing 
object  which  it  had  assisted  in  supporting  was  starting 


UNCLE  PETER  BRADDOCK.  165 

to  fall.  De  had  taken  a  position  in  the  rear  of  Parson 
Woods,  in  the  bucket  line,  and  behind  her  stood  Brad 
Simons,  the  receptacles  for  water  to  extinguish  the  fast 
increasing  conflagration  progressing  rapidly  between 
them.  Simons  saw  the  big  door  sv.-aying  out  as  De, 
uttering  a  little  cry  and  o])livious  of  her  own  risk, 
caught  sight,  near  the  barn  doorway,  of  her  pet  lamb 
apparently  stupefied  by  its  position,  and  sprang  for- 
w^ard  to  carry  it  beyond  the  reach  of  danger.  Brad, 
with  an  exclamation  of  alarm  and  at  great  personal  risk 
and  hazard,  swiftly  covered  the  distance  between  him- 
self and  the  unconscious  rescuer  and  savior  of  the  lamb 
just  as  she  reached  the  incline  ascending  to  the  doorway 
of  the  burning  building.  The  door  was  descending  in 
flames  and  Brad  had  no  time  to  drag  the  girl  away ;  but 
stood  courageously  beneath  the  falling  object.  The  fiery 
mass,  it  seemed  to  the  man  below,  came  down  like  lead. 
It  taxed,  under  the  critical  and  trying  circumstances, 
even  his  own  great  strength  and  endurance  to  mth- 
stand  the  shock  of  physical  impact  dra^nng  on  the  grim 
and  unflinching  resistance  necessary  to  successfully  en- 
counter and  endure  the  heat  and  flames.  His  hands 
were  burned;  his  hair  on  fire.  Parson  Woods  gave  a 
shout  and  sprang  to  Simons'  relief.  It  vras  all  over  in 
a  moment ;  but  De  was  sensible  of  the  debt  she  owed  her 
rescuer.  It  might  have  cost  her  dear  had  she  been 
caught  beneath  the  falling  mass  of  heavy  timbers.  The 
incident,  at  the  time,  w^as  passed  over  with  little  remark ; 
but  it  left  Brad  Simons  in  a  new  light  in  the  honest 
minded  girl's  estimation. 

At  last  by  great  exertion  the  blaze  was  checked;  the 
firelight  flickered  out  low  and  fitfully  over  the  sur- 
rounding scene,  and  the  fire  fighters  were  permitted  to 
see  their  efforts  crowned  with  fair  success.  The  barn 
had  sustained  considerable  damage,  but  was  saved  for 


166  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

all  practical  purposes.  The  hay  at  the  other  side  of  the 
loft  had  escaped,  or  nothing  could  have  preserved  the 
farm  structure  from  total  destruction. 

With  the  blazing  building  between  him  and  the  fire 
fighters,  and  outside  the  range  of  firelight,  a  man 
skulked  in  the  obscurity  and  gloom  of  fence  and  bush, 
while  he  made  his  way  to  the  trees  along  the  river.  The 
person  of  the  insulter  of  John  Braddock's  -wdfe,  and  the 
mortal  enemy  of  Peter  Braddock,  Zeke  Smithin,  could 
have  been  recognized  in  the  man  thus  stealing  away. 

The  big  Newfoundland  dog  suddenly  barked  loudly. 

"Shet  up,"  sharply  commanded  Uncle  Peter,  whose 
nerves  had  stood  all  they  were  going  to. 

De,  nearby,  patted  the  faithful  animal  on  the  head, 
which  affectionate  and  friendly  attention  he  acknowl- 
edged by  a  quick  wag  of  the  tail. 

"Bu'st  my  time!"  ejaculated  Uncle  Peter  Braddock 
when,  all  danger  over,  he  stood  in  the  barnyard  and 
mopped  the  perspiration  from  his  face  with  his  red 
bandana  handkerchief,  while  the  others  were  gathered 
about;  "ef  I  thought,  mother,  that  ye  could  be  right 
'bout  that  'tarnal  Zeke  Smithin  an'  his  red  cock  biz'ness 
meanin'  he  did  this  barn  burnin', — "  Uncle  Peter 
paused;  he  seemed  to  find  it  difficult  to  speak, — "John 
ought  to  kill  him,"  burst  from  the  old  man's  lips. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


ZEKE    SMITHIN    MEETS    A    VIOLENT    END, 

Zeke  Smithin's  unaccountable  and  seemingly  un- 
timely end  came,  with  startling  abruptness,  upon  Uncle 
Peter  Braddock's  conscious  words  touching  his  son's 
feelings  toward  Smithin  and  prompted,  at  the  conclu- 
sion of  the  fire,  by  the  just  indignation  of  the  old 
Hoosier  over  the  supposed  attempt  to  destroy  his  barn. 

Zeke,  in  his  own  purposeless  and  shiftless  life,  had 
been  a  gambler.  At  such  times  as  his  wayward  fancy 
moved  him,  he  would  mount  horse  and  ride  aimlessly 
for  days,  "lookin',''  as  he  put  it,  "fur  luck."  Just 
previous  to  his  death,  he  had  mounted  his  scrawny 
horse  and  sallied  forth  from  T ,  as  usual  to  chal- 
lenge fortune.  His  wanderings  had  wound  up  at  a  cer- 
tain town  in  that  locality;  and  there  Zeke  had  broken 
a  faro  bank.  Afterward,  he  had  restridden  his  bony 
steed  and,  loaded  with  spoil,  set  forth  upon  his  return 

to   the   town  of   T .     The   circumstances   attending 

Ezekiel's  progress  were  so  far  clearly  defined;  but  here 
the  trail  was  lost.  Like  the  renowned  river  in  Southern 
Indiana,  which  flows  in  majestic  self  possession  and 
picturesque  beauty  for  miles,  and  then  suddenly  and 
mysteriously  disappears  to  as  unaccountably  reappear, 
after  miles  of  invisibility,  so  was  the  famous  course  of 
events  in  the  murder  of  Zeke  Smithin.  After  being 
plainly  visible  to  the  point  of  Zeke's  departure  with 
the  possessions  of  the  faro  bank,  its  current  incompre- 
hensibly sank  from  view  only  to  come  once  more  to  the 
surface  after  a  fashion  to  be  presently  noted. 

167 


168  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAYfN. 

It  was  Saturday,  at  about  the  hour  of  noon.     The 

town  of  T wore  a  prosperous  air.     Farm  wagons 

in  profusion  surrounded  the  court  house  square,  and 
stood  with  horses  from  long  drives,  hitched  to  the  rails 
(common,  at  that  time,  in  the  public  squares  of  rural 
towns)  and  drooping  restfully  in  their  gear. 

Farmers  in  "store  clothes,"  some  in  the  garb  in 
which  they  had  left  the  fields,  their  butternut  jeans 
thrust  in  their  rusty  boots,  and  broad  flapping  straw 
hats  enveloping  their  faces,  idled  around  upon  neigh- 
boring corners,  either  preening  their  fine  feathers  or 
jangling  the  big  brass  spur  upon  the  heel  of  the  old, 
yellow,  mud  covered  boot,  or  lazily  switching  random 
bootleg  or  varied  object  with  riding  v\hip  or  buggy 
lash.  The  busy  hum  of  country  talk,  town  gossip  and 
politics  was  abroad.  The  stores  were  busy,  too ;  while 
men  from  the  neighboring  farms  took  this  day  to  gather 
around  a  social  glass  and  swap  prices  in  wheat,  corn 
and  cattle.  It  was  a  day  of  quite  uncommon  rural 
activity  and  bustle. 

Passing  in  and  out  of  the  crowd;  stopping  to  ex- 
change a  word  with  this  one  and  that,  and  showing 
himself  a  familiar  visitor  to  the  town,  went  a  powerful, 
heavy  set  man,  short  of  stature,  of  colorless,  smooth 
shaven  face,  and  a  square,  iron  like  jaw.  He  had  a 
manner  of  singular  confidence,  and  he  approached  one 
group  of  talkers  after  another  with  the  utmost  ease  and 
assurance.  As  he  neared  a  little  knot  of  men,  who  were 
discussing  the  politics  of  the  country,  the  deference  paid 
him  by  those  present,  and  a  certain  air  of  fear  of  the 
man  worn  by  all  who  addressed  him,  proclaimed  his 
position  to  be  one  of  importance  and  influence  in  the 
community.  His  keen,  furtive  glance  kept  roving  from 
group  to  group,  evidently  searching  for  someone. 

"No  tellin'  what  that  there   feller  hain't   into,   er 


ZEKE  MEETS  A  VIOLENT  END.  169 

where  'e  ben't  about  to  ketch  a  feller  in  th'  dark,  any 
time,"  remarked  a  farmer,  in  a  guarded  and  cautious 
voice,  as  the  silent,  square  jawed,  pale  faced  man  went 
by.  "He's  got  'em  all  by  th'  short  hair,  fellers  weth 
brains  an'  all,  an'  'e  never  went  to  school  more'n  a  day 
in  'is  life,  so  he  sez. " 

"Jason  Jump,  ye  mean?"  commented  a  second  man. 

"Ya-as,"  rejoined  the  first.  "He's  got  the  politics 
uv  this  here  darn  country,  county  an'  deestrict  spiked, 
an'  on'y  jus'  kum  tuh  the  State.  Friend  uv  Brad's — 
Brad  Simons.  Carries  the  hull  durn  neighborhood 
aroun'  in  his  pocket,  and  a  heep  o'  other  things  same 
way,  that  ye  don't  want  to  talk  about,  reckon.  Guess 
he  makes  a  livin'  out  o'  cattle  raisin'  'ith  Brad  Simons 
— don't  know." 

"Wouldn't  like  to  know  much  where  he  goes,  up  in 
the  hills.  'Tain't  healthy  to  know  everything,  I  tell  ye," 
discreetly  observed  the  second  speaker. 

In  the  meantime,  the  subject  of  discussion  and  re- 
mark passed  on  up  the  street  and  placing  a  hand  on  the 
arm  of  Brad  Simons,  standing  with  Bob  Likkum  in 
front  of  the  post  office,  drew  him  aside. 

The  man — Jason  Jump,  thus  characteristically  re- 
ferred to  by  the  farmer,  talked  long  and  earnestly  with 
Simons.  He  appeared  to  offer  views  objectionable  to 
Brad,  as  the  latter  was  seen  to  shake  his  head,  ex- 
claiming, 

"No,  no." 

"But,"  persisted  Jump,  "I  say,  yes.  If  I  am  going 
to  lead  those  fellows,  it  must  be  my  way.  You  know 
you  get  plenty  out  of  it." 

The  point,  to  whatever  matter  it  related,  was  ad- 
justed quickly  and  satisfactorily  to  Jason  Jump's  idea 
of  personal  supremacy. 

"Brad,"  then  said  Simons'  companion,  looking  euri- 


170  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

ously  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  at  the  cattleman's 
florid  countenance,  "you  must  have  an  A  1  house- 
keeper. ' ' 

"Mona's  all  right,"  replied  Brad,  unsuspiciously. 

"Yes,"  continued  the  other,  "  should  say  she  was. 
Going  to  marry  her?" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  quickly  exclaimed  the  other, 
his  suspicions  now  aroused. 

"Oh,  nothing  special,"  carelessly  rejoined  Jump. 
"That's  a  nice  marriage  agreement  between  you  and 
her." 

"You  were  in  the  bank  robbery,  then,  Black  Hank, 
were  you,  you  damned  thief?"  cried  Simons  furiously, 
in  the  sudden  realization  of  the  possession,  by  his  dan- 
gerous and  unscrupulous  associate,  of  that  seriously 
compromising  agreement  between  himself  and  his  house- 
keeper; at  a  time,  too,  when  the  infatuated  stockman 
felt  himself  falling  deeper  and  deeper  under  the  spell 
of  De  Braddock.  The  inconvenient  document  had  been 
among  the  papers  and  bank  deposit  of  Mona  Walker, 
and  which  were  stolen  from  the  bank. 

"You  eternal  fool!"  hissed  the  companion  of  the 
enraged  cattleman;  "you  call  me  that  name,  here,  and 
I'll  do  you  up." 

* '  What 's  your  game  ? ' '  retorted  Simons,  a  little  more 
steadily. 

Jump's  own  anger  had  been  deeply  aroused,  and 
was  yet  burning  fiercely  in  his  piercing  glance. 

"You're  trying  to  marry  De  Braddock,  and  ruin 
Mona  Walker.  I  shall,  certainly,  not  permit  you  to  do 
the  latter,"  the  outlaw  leader's  voice  was  cold,  in  sup- 
pressed temper. 

"Mr,  Jump,"  observed  the  cattle  trader,  an  icy 
calm  taking  the  place  of  his  previous  rage,  "it  appears 
to  me,  that  you  are  going  somewhat  deeply,  maybe  a 


ZEKE  MEETS  A  VIOLENT  END.  171 

little  too  deeply,  into  the  affairs  of  this  community.  I 
have  been,  likewise,  privately  informed,  that  your  out- 
lawry inspired  young  Bolers  to  his  act  of  forgery." 

It  may  be  as  well  to  say  here,  that  there  has  been  no 
intention  of  connecting  Brad  Simons  with  the  actual 
membership  of  the  criminal  organization  of  which  Jason 
Jump  was  the  head.  Simons  was  not  a  sworn  member. 
However,  by  a  profound  cunning,  he  maintained  a  firm 
control  of  these  unworthy  members  of  society.  He 
might  be  said  to  have  occupied  some  such  a  position  as 
that  of  "fence,"  to  receive  and  handle  stolen  goods.  He 
joined  in  none  of  the  meetings  of  the  odious  order;  and 
had  never  been  other  than  a  powerful  and  dangerous 
authority  to  submit  and  appeal  to,  on  the  outside. 

"That  for  your  information,"  retaliated  the  in- 
censed and  defiant  robber,  in  response  to  Simons'  last 
speech,  at  the  same  time  snapping  his  fingers  in  Simons' 
face. 

"Another  little  matter,"  still  quietly  went  on  the 
outlaw's  secret  and  deadly  associate,  while  a  murderous 
look  crept  into  his  eyes.  In  repressed,  even  tones,  and 
with  ominous  suspicion,  he  concluded:  "The  Smithin 
affair  ought  to  keep  you  busy  enough." 

"What  do  you — ?"  Simons'  companion,  with  a 
singular  expression  of  concealed  cunning,  was  abruptly 
and  suddenly  silent.  Then,  "Now,  Simons,  you're  try- 
ing to  marry  De  Braddock.  How  much  is  that  marriage 
agreement  worth?" 

"I've  a  mind,  you  villain,"  ground  out  Simons  be- 
tween his  teeth,  with  an  additional  oath,  "to  hand  you 
and  your  d d  gang  over  to  the  law." 

"Oh,  no,  you  haven't,"  was  the  other  man's  cool 
rejoinder.  "You  might  be  handing  yourself  over,  at 
the  same  time. — How  much  is  it  worth,  Simons?" 

"Not  a cent,"  said  the  cattleman,  in  a 


172  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

tone  of  stifled  wrath,  and,  turning  on  his  heel,  he  walked 
away. 

"Well,"  said  Jump,  "we'll  see  about  that,  later." 

Near  a  popular  saloon,  there  was  assembled  a  small 
group  of  farmers,  including  the  representative  influence 
of  the  locality. 

' '  Step  right  in,  men  ! ' '  called  a  cheery  voice,  ' '  and 
prime  up,"  and  a  well  known  local  politician,  who  at 
the  moment  was  passing,  paused  in  his  utterance  of  this 
address  and  looked  smilingly  at  the  gathering. 

There  was  a  ready  response  and  a  general  entrance 
into  the  drinking  place.  While  those  assembled  were 
partaking  of  the  politically  minded  host's  entertain- 
ment, there  pushed  excitedly  into  the  barroom  a  man 
shouting, 

"Zeke  Smithin's  bin  killed — found  weth  his  head 
bu  'sted,  on  the  road  runnin '  over  past  Samples 's  place. ' ' 

Jason  Jump,  sauntering  carelessly  in,  his  usually 
cold,  white,  expressionless  face,  to  the  casual  observer, 
twitching  slightly,  was  a  curious  and  interested  listener. 

' '  Don 't  allow ! ' '  said  a  farmer  setting  his  glass  down 
nntasted  on  the  bar,  and  gazing  with  open  mouth  at  the 
bearer  of  these  tidings. 

"Huh?"  exclaimed  another  holding  his  undrained 
glass  at  his  lips,  in  an  attitude  of  eloquent  astonish- 
ment. 

The  politician  alone  appeared  to  retain  his  presence 
of  mind.  Having  in  tow  the  present  goodly  gathering 
of  bulwarks  of  a  free  country,  he  raised  his  voice : 

"Gentlemen,  it  is  as  I  have  long  been  telling  you. 
The  country  is  going  to  the  dogs.  Look  at  our  laws — 
look — look — I  say,  gentlemen,  look — "  they  were  look- 
ing as  hard  as  they  could.  The  little  gathering  of  men 
permitted  its  gaze  to  wheel  slowly  to  the  face  of  the 
speaker  and  continue  to  rest  there.     "I  say,  look  at  the 


ZEKE  MEETS  A  VIOLENT  END.  173 

condition,"  burst  forth  the  orator,  as  if,  in  an  unhappy 
quagmire  of  political  statesmansliip,  a  happy  inspira- 
tion had  suddenly  come  to  his  relief, — "look  at  the  con- 
dition in  which  the  tyranny  of  our  benighted  land  has 
left — our  country  roads,  on  which,  in  the  full  light  of 
the  glorious  day  of  liberty,  our  most  respected  citizens" 
(news  had  preceded  Zeke's  untimely  end  of  Zeke's  pos- 
session of  the  funds  of  the  faro  bank)  "are  struck  down, 
by  the  remorseless  hand  of  power,  in  our  midst,  in  the 
heydey  of  power  and  glory. ' ' 

How  much  longer  the  bewildered  listeners  had  been 
held  spellbound  by  these  singular  powers  of  political 
oratory  will  have  to  remain  undetermined,  for,  at  this 
moment,  the  entrance  of  Bob  Likkum  and  Uncle  Peter 
Braddock  interrupted  the  efforts  of  the  orator. 

The  politician,  who  had  a  surprising  facility  of  varia- 
tion, exclaimed,  upon  the  arrival  of  Bob  and  Uncle 
Peter, 

"Drink,  gentlemen,  drink  of  the  nectar  of  the  gods!" 

"Whose  necktie?"  drawled  Bob. 

They  all  laughed. 

The  breathless  messenger,  who  had  brought  the  news 
of  Smithin's  fate,  and  who  had  been  struck  dumb  in 
the  face  of  the  politician's  surprising  explanation  of 
crime  in  general,  and  upon  their  country  roads  in  par- 
ticular, was  here,  by  means  of  the  contents  of  a  bottle 
shoved  across  the  bar,  at  last  restored  to  powers  of 
speech.  He  went  on  to  treat  his  interested  audience 
to  the  few  facts  attending  the  discovery  of  Zeke's  body, 
and  many  more  details  not  facts,  which  his  imagination, 
fired  by  the  country  whiskey,  supplied  the  modern 
Ananias,  on  whom  the  benignant  pictured  features  of 
the  father  of  his  country  looked  down  in  sadness,  from 
the  wall  behind  the  bar. 

There  had  insinuated  himself  into  the  throng  col- 


174  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

lected  at  the  bar  a  character  well  known  in  the  com- 
munity for  an  entire  absence  of  all  habits  of  industry, 
unless  the  devotion  of  one's  moments  to  the  pleasures 
of  pastime  may,  in  dearth  of  other  occupation,  be  re- 
garded among  the  enterprises.  This  man,  by  name,  Job 
Saunders,  now  spoke  up. 

"Wall,  bu'st  me,"  observed  Saunders,  "ef  that  ain't 
about  it — seen  a  strange  feller,  yist'day,  sneakin'  'long 
the  fence  by  Samples 's  wood,  w'en  I  b'en  over  there  to 
the  river,  a-fishin'." 

"What'd  he  look  like?"  inquired  Bob  Likkum. 

"Slouchy  kind  uv  a  cuss,"  said  Job. 

"Get  clost  to  him?"  pursued  Bob. 

'  *  By  gum ! ' '  replied  Job,  who  like  all  neglected  hu- 
manity warmed  up  to  unexpected  notoriety;  "was  as 
clost  as  from  me  to  you." 

"Scar,"  said  Bob, — "scar  acrost  his  forehead, 
here?"  and  Bob  suited  the  action  to  the  word  and  drew 
the  forefinger  of  his  own  right  hand  across  his  own  fore- 
head. 

' '  By  gum  !  now,  gentlemen, ' '  again  impressively 
ejaculated  Job,  "that's  him — we've  got  him — hed  the 
scar  jest  as  you  said  he  had." 

"Got  him — got  who?"  sharply  and  with  original 
grammar  asked  the  man  who  had  indulged  his  hearers 
with  the  recent  remarks  on  political  science;  but  who, 
strange  to  say,  was  a  la-v^yer  of  ability  and  of  extended 
practice.  "What  do  you  mean?"  this  last  to  Bob  Lik- 
kum, 

"Why,  ye  see,  Bob  and  me,"  quietly  put  in  Uncle 
Peter  Braddoek,  "we  was  a-goin'  along  this  mornin', 
drivin'  over  here  ^4th  mother  and  De,  and  seen  a 
feller—" 

"Seen  a  feller — "  took  up  Likkum  at  this  point. 

"Jest—"  said  Uncle  Peter. 


ZEKE  MEETS  A  VIOLENT  END.  175 

"Like—"  said  Bob. 

"What  Job  says — "  continued  Uncle  Peter. 

"The  other  feller  was  like,"  finished  Bob. 

"And  our  Esau,"  added  Uncle  Peter,  as  though  it 
might  be  a  useful  piece  of  evidence  on  which  to  hang 
a  man, — "our  Esau  tol'  me,  'at  he  driv'  a  man  'at  had 
a  scar  on  his  furhead  out'n  our  barn,  where  the  gol  darn 
tramp  was  sleepin',  t'other  day."  Uncle  Peter  could 
not  "abide"  tramps. 

The  lawyer  laughed.  "Well,  men,"  he  said  nat- 
urally enough,  "convict  a  man  on  that!  Scarcely  as 
plain  as  a  pikestaff.  Hardly  occasion  to  say,  could 
scarcely  hang  a  yellow  dog  on  that  evidence." 

But  pebbles  make  eddies,  and  Peter  Braddock's  re- 
mark dropped  in  the  current  of  talk  had  its  effect. 

'  *  All  right, ' '  here  spoke  up  one  who,  up  to  that  time, 
had  remained  silent, — "all  right,  but  better  git  the 
feller,  if  possible,"  and  the  speaker,  who  was  the  sheriff 
of  the  county,  took  a  well  chewed  piece  of  cigar  from 
his  mouth  and  spat  in  a  quick,  short  way  of  decision. 

Jason  Jump,  still  watchful — still  silent,  stood  a  mo- 
ment.    Then,  said: 

"Yes." 

"You're  certainly  correct  about  that,  Zach,"  re- 
joined the  lawyer  to  the  sheriff,  and  the  latter 's  moving 
to  the  door  was  the  cue  for  a  general  departure  of  those 
gathered  in  the  barroom. 

Jason  Jump  sauntered  out,  with  easy  nonchalance. 

When  Uncle  Peter  Braddock  left  the  drinking 
place  he  encountered  Mrs.  Braddock. 

"Mother,"  said  Uncle  Peter,  as  Mother  Braddock 
joined  him,  "ye've  heerd,  I  take  it,  of  Zeke  Smithin's 
end?" 

"Oh!  Peter,  ain't  it  dreadful  (Mrs.  Braddock  pro- 


176  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

nounced  this  word  "drefful").    I  don't  know  what  this 
wicked  world's  a-comin'  to,  I  don't." 

"Yes,  pore  feller.  Zeke's  b'en  a  good  sort,  arter 
all,"  moralized  Uncle  Peter  prone,  after  the  manner  of 
his  kind,  to  find  virtues  in  the  dead  denied  the  living, — 
"never  did  no  harm  to  nobody,  as  I  knows  on."  Peter 
generously  forgave  his  own  suspicions,  and  never  knew 
definitely  who  set  fire  to  the  barn. 

"Where  are  they  all  goin',  in  that  crowd?"  queried 
Martha  as  the  neighbors  of  Uncle  Peter,  with  whom  the 
old  man  had  just  parted  company,  hurried,  wdth  un- 
wonted commotion,  dovm  the  street. 

"They's  a  feller  they  be  after,  'at  they  think,  maybe, 
had  somep'n  to  do  with  the  killin'  of  Zeke,"  replied 
Mr.  Braddock  to  his  wife's  question;  "an'  the  sheriff 
an'  the  possy,"  Uncle  Peter  deemed  it  a  fitting  legal 
process  to  appoint  the  crowd,  now  rapidly  swelling  and 
moving  away  with  the  sheriff,  a  posse  comitatus,  and  did 
so  out  of  hand, — much  pleased  with  himself  Uncle  Peter 
repeated,—' '  the  sheriff  and  the  possy  is  after  the  feller. 
They  bin  a-drinkin'  some,"  added  the  farmer  thought- 
fully,—"hope  they  won't  hurt  the  crittur." 

At  this  moment  the  figure  of  Rachel  Bolers,  in  the 
same  sudden  and  unexpected  manner  in  which  it  had 
appeared  at  the  Braddock  farm,  started  into  view.  It 
came  seemingly  from  the  rear  of  some  idlers  by  the 
courthouse  square,  and  advanced  across  the  road  in 
the  direction  of  Farmer  Braddock  and  his  party.  Mrs. 
Braddock  was  the  first  to  catch  sight  of  the  specter  like 
face  and  person  of  Nance's  mother. 

"Peter— Peter,  let's  be  goin ',— there 's  that  gal  Nan 
Bolers'  mammy." 

Despite  these  earnest  beseechings  from  :\Irs.  Brad- 
dock, Peter  Braddock  stolidly  held  his  ground. 


ZEKE  MEETS  A  VIOLENT  END.  177 

"Pore  thing,"  compassionately  said  the  old  man, 
gazing  at  the  woman  nearing  them. 

The  face  of  Nance  Bolers'  mother,  as  the  latter 
reached  the  edge  of  the  walk  on  which  the  group  from 
the  Braddock  farmstead  stood,  was  lighted  with  the 
appearance  of  the  wild  disorder  of  a  mind  deranged; 
and,  as  usual,  the  demented  creature  caught,  in  her 
speech,  at  the  controlling  emotion  and  idea  of  the  mo- 
ment. 

"They'll  ketch  him— Jack  Ketch '11  git  'im,  an' 
they'll  hang  him — Jack  Ketch '11  hang  'im!"  she  cried, 
in  an  eerie  monotone.  "They'll  ketch  'im,  an'  they'll 
hang  'im, ' '  repeated  the  woman,  ' '  and  they  'd  orter,  for 
he  spiled  my  gal — my  Nanny.  I'll  put  the  rope  aroun' 
his  neck,  myself,  I  will,"  cried  the  woman,  uncannily 
waving  her  arms.  "I'm  goin',  now,  to  help  'em,"  and 
the  seeming  irresponsible  wreck  of  past  joys  and  sorrows 
flitted  spectrally  past  Peter  Braddock  and  on  in  the 
wake  of  the  sheriff's  party,  tossing  her  arms  on  high 
with  bent  and  bony  fingers  like  a  vulture  or  some  other 
bird  of  prey  or  ill  omen  descending  upon  the  feast  of 
death. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


A   LYNCHING    SYNDICATE    SHORT    ON    DIVIDENDS. 

"William  White,  twenty-five  years  of  age,  was  the 
son  of  one  Samuel  White,  who,  like  Peter  Braddock  in 
the  case  of  De,  had  given  William  an  education  above 
the  average  advantages  which  the  times  rendered  cus- 
tomary, or  often  possible,  amongst  farmers.  White, 
born  in  Indiana,  had  graduated  from  the  Asbury  Uni- 
versity, at  Greencastle,  in  his  native  State.  William 
White's  father,  William's  sole  surviving  relative  at  the 
time,  dying,  had  left  the  young  writer  a  living,  barely 
enough  for  one,  in  the  rental  of  a  small  farm.  The 
young  man  was  talented;  but,  as  is  not  unusually  the 
ease,  little  understood  in  the  neighborhood  where  his 
earlier  youth  had  been  passed. 

De's  schooling  had  received  the  attention  of  a  Miss 
Primvale  who,  at  the  little  town  of  T ,  accommo- 
dated a  limited  number  of  boarders. 

Brad  Simons  was,  likewise,  noted  for  his  "book 
Tarnin'."  Like  White,  he  had  in  early  days  made  an 
advanced  experiment  with  the  University,  at  Green- 
castle; but  the  failure,  prior  to  his  own  father's  death, 
of  his  parent's  financial  ability  to  continue  his  son's 
educational  course  had  prevented  the  young  man's 
graduation;  and  a  certain  indifference  to  leaving  the 
farm  had  left  Brad  Simons  a  grazier  and  a  farmer;  out 
of  which  conditions  he  had  repaired  the  fallen  parental 
fortunes  and  grown  rich  and  prosperous,  for  his  locality 
and  day. 

178 


A  LYNCHING  SYNDICATE.  179 

At  this  point,  it  is  no  matter  of  surprise,  that,  in 
the  course  of  human  events,  De  Braddock  and  William 
White  should  (unseen  of  Uncle  Peter  but  seen  of 
Mother  Braddock)  meet  on  the  day  of  the  death  of  Zeke 
Smithin,  when  Saturday  buying  had  brought  Peter 
Braddock 's  family  to  town. 

Brad  Simons  encountered  the  lovers;  and,  as  he 
joined  William  White  and  De  on  one  of  the  streets  of  the 
country  town, 

"Miss  De,  I  perceive  is  dallying  wdth  the  Muse,"  he 
lightly  remarked,  -wdth  a  secret  sneer,  which  offered  both 
unquestionable  offense  to  White,  and  flippant  slight  to 
the  girl. 

"I  believe,"  observed  White,  "the  Muse  deserted 
you,  at  an  earlier  period  of  your  career. ' '  It  was  a  fair 
thrust,  and,  in  spite  of  himself,  Brad  colored.  The  cat- 
tle trader  had  pride  in  books;  and,  despite  his  easy 
going  selfishness,  at  times  experienced,  as  the  passing  of 
shadow  upon  water,  a  vain  regret  in  his  broken  college 
career,  which,  however,  he  had  never  really  cared  or 
desired  to  renew. 

White's  rival,  in  further  uttered  speech,  ignored  his 
adversary's  hit,  although  upon  its  reception  he  had 
winced  palpably. 

"Miss  De,"  he  contented  himself  with  saying,  "I 
have  knowledge  of  some  business  in  which  your  brother 
John  is  deeply  concerned.  I  am  sure  it  will  prove  of 
advantage  for  you  to  hear  it, ' '  and  Brad  Simons,  speak- 
ing, made  a  movement  as  if  to  join  the  walk  of  the  lin- 
gering couple. 

De  Braddock  hastily  drew  back  from  White,  and 
simultaneously  from  Brad  himself,  and  looked  quickly 
and  consciously  into  Simons'  eyes  peering  into  hers. 

"I  wish,"  returned  she,  "you  would  speak  to  my 
father. ' ' 


180  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

It  instantly  flashed  across  White's  mind,  and  with 
truth,  that  one,  if  not  the  only,  object  Brad  Simons  had 
was  to  separate  De  and  himself.  The  writer,  thus 
moved,  pleasantly  and  conciliatingly  though  self  assert- 
ively observed: 

"Miss  Braddock  has  requested  you  to  see  Mr.  Brad- 
dock,  Mr.  Simons,"  White  spoke  boldly,  a  trifle  self 
conscious  in  thus  sharing  De's  duties  of  response,  but, 
otherwise,  facing  Brad  Simons  with  an  air  of  perfect 
politeness  and  quiet,  easy  dignity. 

"Who,  may  I  ask,"  inquired  Simons,  with  ill  con- 
cealed contempt,  "constitutes  you  the  romantically 
heroic  guardian  of  Miss  Braddock 's  affairs?" 

"Mr.  White,"  here  interjected  De,  instinctively 
taking  her  lover 's  part,  ' '  is  my  escort. ' ' 

"As  such,"  observed  Mr.  William  White  much  re- 
freshed and  encouraged,  and  turning  cheerfully  to  Brad 
Simons,  "may  I  again  refer  you  to  her  father?"  and 
without  more  ado,  and  with  no  objection  on  the  part  of 
the  young  lady,  the  for  once  victorious  writer  took  the 
girl  of  his  heart  by  the  arm  and  marched  off. 

Simons  stood  scowling  and  furious,  watching  the 
two  move  do^vn  the  primitive  street.  His  scowl  deepened 
as  his  gaze,  shifting  from  the  girl,  rested  upon  the 
triumphant  figure  of  the  man  at  her  side. 

"So,  my  young  bantam,"  muttered  the  baffled  man, 
"you're  up  to  that  game,  are  you — open  fight,  eh?"  He 
ran  his  fingers  over  the  close  shut  lips  of  his  mouth,  as 
if  in  thought,  and  his  face  grew  darker.  ' '  I  have  cattle 
in  my  pastures,  that  I  would  not  sooner  knock  in  the 
head.  I  '11  stop  that  little  game  of  yours,  if  it  costs  me  a 
life,  and  it  won't  be  mine,  either,"  pursued  the  menac- 
ing and  evil  soliloquizer;  and,  obeying  an  involuntary 
impulse,  he  started  forward  with  an  apparent  intention 
of  following  the  retreating  couple ;  when,  as  if  to  facili- 


A  LYNCHING  SYNDICATE.  181 

tate  William's  unceremonious  dismissal  of  Brad's  in- 
convenient wooing,  Parson  Woods,  at  that  moment, 
came  up  and  joined  Simons,  and  unconsciously  held  him 
in  a  discussion  of  the  recent  killing  of  Smithin,  a  topic, 
by  this  time,  engrossing  the  attention  of  the  entire  popu- 
lation. During  Parson  Woods'  grave  and  sober  re- 
marks, Brad  saw  William  convey  the  girl  surely  and 
steadily  beyond  the  range  of  vision. 

The  lovers  were  returning  from  a  ramble  through 
the  woods.  The  scent  of  the  forest  was  in  their  nostrils. 
The  sounds  of  the  woodland  were  about  them.  Birds 
chirped,  fluttered  and  settled  to  glance  upon  the  two  as 
they  passed  slowly  beneath  airy  perches.  The  squirrel 
stopped  quick  in  his  scuttle  up  the  tree,  scuttled  short 
and  abruptly  stopped  again  within  his  length — looked 
innocently  down,  moved  a  little  pace  and  waited  for  the 
man  and  maid  to  go  on  in  their  rapturous  way  through 
the  dreamy  old  wood. 

De  paused  now  and  then  to  cull  a  wild  flower. 
White  chirped  to  the  squirrel.  A  redbird  whistled  joy- 
ously. 

"De,  I  have  never  told  you — " 

' '  Oh,  see,  William,  that  bit  of  red  in  the  bushes, ' ' 
and  the  redbird,  surely  filled  with  the  glorious  sense  of 
the  splendor  of  his  dress,  swept  in  glad  display  from 
the  bush  to  the  bough  of  a  neighboring  tree. 

"Your — your  father  objects     .     .     ." 

He  had  never  before  spoken  of  his  feeling  for  her, 
and  she  knew  he  was  about  to  do  so  now.  She  was 
silent. 

A  faint  shout  was  heard  down  the  road,  then  an- 
other ;  and  presently  it  grew  upon  their  dim  and  enrapt 
senses  that  a  crowd  of  angry  and  excited  people  was 
approaching  on  the  highway,  at  the  wood's  edge  not  far 
off. 


182  THE  CAVERNS  OP  DAWN. 

White's  apprehensions,  pointed  by  recent  observa- 
tion of  the  threatening  aspect  of  the  eager  man  hunters 
in  town,  took  alarm. 

"De,"  he  said  hastily,  "wait  here  a  moment,"  and 
detaining  his  companion  by  the  arm,  at  the  side  of  a 
large  oak,  he  made  as  if  to  start  for  the  road. 

"What  is  it?"  exclaimed  the  other  catching  a  feel- 
ing of  excitement  from  her  undeclared  lover's  face,  and 
placing  a  restraining  hand  upon  his. 

"They'll  lynch  that  man — they've  caught  him," 
and  White's  grasp  tightened  on  the  girl's  arm. 

The  voices,  in  the  road,  had  become  recognizable. 
Bob  Likkum's  loud,  piercing  tones  were  heard: 

"Now,  fellers,  see  here — no  harmin'  the  crittur!  Jes' 
wait — give  the  miz'ble  skunk  a  fair  trial." 

Again,  De's  voice  broke  the  silence  of  the  two  stand- 
ing alone  in  the  wood. 

"William,  what  is  it?" 

"The  man,"  answered  White,  with  face  tensely 
turned  in  the  direction  of  the  road,  "they  suspect  of 
killing  Zeke  Smithin." 

They  stood  and  listened,  and  past  the  open  wood 
began  to  dart  the  figures  of  the  mob,  following  each 
other  in  rapid  succession  along  the  not  distant  high- 
w^ay. 

First  came  the  unearthly,  witch  like  figure  of  Rachel 
Bolers  dancing  among  those  in  the  lead,  her  hair  flying, 
her  arms  extended  and  the  ghostly  drapery  of  her  gar- 
ments streaming  around  her.  Jason  Jump  followed, 
silently  gliding  in  the  midst  of  the  rioters.  Next,  came 
Bob  Likkum's  tall,  angular  form  striding  by;  then  came 
more  confused  perceptions  of  a  mixed  and  motley 
gathering  of  shouting  figures  and  flourishing  arms.  At 
last,  White  was  able  to  make  out,  for  the  briefest  space, 
the  form  of  a  man  half  walking  and  half  dragged  along 


A  LYNCHING  SYNDICATE.  183 

the  road  by  two  custodians,  one  at  either  side,  and 
assisted  from  *the  rear  by  the  ever  present  and  officious 
Job  Saunders.  The  watchers  in  the  wood  could  see  that 
one  of  the  two  principal  conductors  of  the  prisoner  was 
the  sheriff;  the  other,  the  political  lawyer,  who,  even  at 
this  crisis,  had,  once  more,  succumbed  to  the  disease  of 
politics,  and,  with  his  eye  fixed  upon  future  political 
preferment  of  his  own,  was  vigorously  haranguing  the 
multitude  upon  the  merits  and  safety  of  law  and  order, 
and  the  objectionable  characteristics  of  any  administra- 
tion local,  national,  or  Dahomian,  that  rendered  possi- 
ble this  insecurity  to  "life,  liberty  and  the  pursuit  of 
happiness."  It  mattered  little  to  the  orator, — what 
real,  simon  pure  orator  cares, — whether  any  one  heard 
him,  or  paid  any  attention  to  him,  or  not, — he  heard 
himself — that  was  sufficient.  And,  so,  the  mob  of  ex- 
cited, overwrought,  in  some  cases  whiskey  inflamed,  and 
in  all  cases  vengeful  and  vindictive  spirits  dragged  theit 
victim  on  in  the  direction  of  town. 

"White  had  scarcely  time  to  vv'onder  whether  or  not 
the  presence  of  the  sheriff  would  make  against  violence, 
when  the  last  of  the  straggling  crowd  of  men,  boys  and 
even  women  and  little  children  passed  by  his  narrow 
field  of  vision,  and  he  heard  a  new  shout  from  the  rear. 

"He's  got  Zeke's  hat  and  gun,  an'  he's  a  triflin  cuss, 
and  oughter  be  hanged, — take  him  out'n  the  sheriff's 
hands,  boys,"  and,  thus,  in  the  way  of  a  snowball  that 
grows  insensibly,  was  the  threatening  character  of  the 
mob  finally  reaching  rounded  fullness  and  perfection. 

White  sprang  forward  in  an  uncontrollable  impulse; 
then  stopped  as  suddenly. 

"De,"  he  exclaimed  hurriedly,  "can  you  find  your 
father  and  mother?    I  must — " 

"William,"  replied  the  girl,  "I  am  going  with 
you." 


184  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"But,  De— " 

"I  am  going  with  you." 

The  man  and  the  girl  sprang  forward  as  if  by  a  com- 
mon impulse,  and  reached  the  fence  in  front  of  them 
■almost  before  the  sound  of  their  voices  had  ceased  to 
vibrate  in  the  forest  air. 

■  They  saw  the  frenzied  crowd,  with  Rachel  Bolers ' 
uncanny  figure  leading  on  ahead,  dragging  the  captive 
in  its  midst,  hooting  in  the  road  above.  One  man,  more 
active  than  the  rest,  had  shot  past  the  others,  gone 
swiftly  into  a  neighboring  place,  and,  returning  with  a 
rope,  was  crying  the  fatal  meaning  of  the  article  in  loud 
and  deadly  tones. 

White  did  not  pause.  Assisting  his  companion  over 
the  fence,  the  writer  followed,  when  the  two  set  out  to 
overtake  the  mob.  As  they  reached  the  straggling  out- 
skirts of  the  throng,  the  man  with  the  rope  pushed  his 
way  through  the  crowd  and  grasped  the  prisoner  by  the 
throat. 

In  the  latter.  White  recognized,  \\ith  a  start,  the 
tramp  deserter  from  the  outlaws,  and  his  own  scout. 

It  was  noticeable  that  the  captive,  ragged  and  dirty 
as  of  a  certainty  was  his  appearance,  bore  himself  with 
unmoved  indifference  and  composure  in  the  hands  of  his 
formidable  captors.  His  hat  was  off,  his  hair  flying,  his 
face  pale  beneath  the  grime  upon  it,  while  the  great 
ragged  scar  on  the  forehead  had  grown  livid  under  the 
increased  pallor  of  the  skin,  but  he  showed  no  signs  of 
craven  fear. 

To  add  to  the  increasing  confusion  which  an  attempt 
to  put  a  rope  around  the  prisoner's  neck  had  infused 
into  the  gathering,  Rachel  Bolers,  wildly  throwdng  her 
arms  above  her  head  and  circling  like  a  bat  among  the 
crowd,  shrilly  cried, 

"Jack  Ketch  '11  ketch  'im,  an'  Jack  Ketch  '11  hang 


A  LYNCHING  SYNDICATE.  185 

'im.  Put  a  rope  aroun'  his  neck,  hang  'im;  put  a  rope 
aroun'  his  neck." 

The  sheriff  promptly  interfered,  and  spiritedly,  if 
unwisely,  knocked  the  rope  bearer  down,  as  the  latter, 
fired  by  Rachel's  wild  and  incoherent  words,  attempted 
to  do  her  insane  bidding. 

Instantly,  and  with  equal  despatch,  someone  knocked 
the  sheriff  senseless,  with  the  exclamation : 

"Ye  hit  my  brother,  did  ye!"  and  the  politician- 
lawyer  and  Parson  Woods,  the  latter  of  whom  had  come 
out  from  town  in  a  vain  attempt  to  side  with  law  in  the 
person  of  the  sheriff,  were  hustled  beyond  the  limits  of 
the  fighting  mass.  The  insensible  sheriff  was  quickly 
carried  by  his  friends  into  an  adjacent  farmhouse, 
where  efforts  were  made  to  restore  him  to  consciousness. 

These  last  events  only  increased  the  serious  dangers 
which  threatened  the  prisoner,  and  the  timely  arrival  of 
William  White,  whose  voice  was  heard  clear  and  clarion 
toned  above  the  din,  arrested  for  a  moment  the  perilous 
crisis. 

"Look  you,  all,"  called  White,  and  the  lawyer  and 
parson  made  their  way  to  the  side  of  the  aroused  scribe, 
* '  we  are  not  going  to  stand  by  and  see  this  thing  done — 
don 't  think  it. ' ' 

"He  had  pore  Zeke  Smithin's  gun  an'  hat,"  yelled  a 
man. 

"I  don't  care,"  shouted  White,  "what  he  had — you 
mtist  take  him  to  jail." 

"We'll  do  ez  w^e  darn  please,"  retorted  a  belligerent, 
who,  like  a  true  descendant  of  '76,  though  in  a  highly 
inflamed  state  of  alcoholic  independence,  was  resolved 
to  repudiate  the  restriction  of  his  liberty,  on  the  part  of 
anyone. 

"Well,  we'll  see,"  cried  White  furiously,  in  his  de- 


186     .  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

termination,  and  De  Braddock  looked  at  her  lover,  vdih 
quick  inspiration. 

Bob  Likkum,  who  had  worked  around  to  where  the 
lawyer,  William  White  and  Parson  Woods  stood  in  a 
manner  protecting  De  standing  in  the  rear,  said  in  a 
quiet  tone  to  White, 

"Be  keerful,  Billy,  don't  rile  'em  more'n  ye  kin 
he'p, — thet  thar'  cussed  Job  Sa'nders  's  bin  a-workin' 
of  'em  up.  'Pears  like  that  'air  feller,"  observed  the 
philosophic  Bob,  viewing  the  mob  before  him  with  a 
cool  and  watchful  eye  the  while,  "  'u  'd  ruther  be  in  mis- 
chief an'  idleness,  'an  eat.  Look  out!"  cried  Likkum, 
grasping  White's  arm,  and  thus  effectually  restraining 
a  sudden  movement  of  the  writer  to  rush  in  among  the 
excited  and  would-be  lynchers;  "don't  git  into  no 
onnecessary  trouble, — on'y  make  matters  ^^Tls', — they's 
half  uv  'em  putt'  nigh  corned  weth  Wabash  whiskey," 
and  Bob  Likkum,  by  superior  strength,  dragged  White 
back  from  dashing  madly  into  the  murderous  crowd. 

Jason  Jump,  in  the  throng,  looked  on,  still  silently. 

"They've  got  the  rope  around  his  neck,"  exclaimed 
White. 

"See  here,  ye  pesky  varmints,"  shouted  Likkum, 
•attempting  to  elbow  his  way  through  to  the  man  with 
the  rope,  but  to  no  avail,  for  Bob  was  forced  back,  and, 
breathing  hard,  was  ranged  again  at  the  side  of  the  few 
friends  of  law  and  order. 

At  one  side  of  the  road,  was  the  broad,  low  stump  of 
a  tree  where,  in  some  day  of  pre\ious  road  making  a 
large  oak  had  been  felled.  Suddenly,  without  warning, 
the  wild  and  unruly  gathering,  as  if  by  a  common  in- 
stinct, swayed  to  the  roadside,  with  the  evident  intention 
of  penetrating  the  wood  and  using  the  limb  of  a  forest 
tree  for  final  and  fatal  conclusions.  As  the  movement 
began,  De,  with  the  daring  purpose  of  addressing  the 


A  LYNCHING  SYNDICATE.  187 

mad  swarm,  sprang  to  the  oak  stump.  The  mob  faced 
the  impromptu  speaker  stand  as  she,  unnoticed  by 
White  or  the  others,  made  for  the  woodland  platform. 

"Oh,  Lord!"  groaned  Bob  Likkum,  oblivious  with 
the  rest,  of  De's  actions,  and  absorbed  in  his  contempla- 
tion of  the  odds  against  them;  "a  hundred  to  three  on 
us." 

De  had  gained  the  stump.  Springing  lightly  to  the 
top  of  it  she  raised  her  clear,  young  voice  above  the  dis- 
tracted din,  and  instant  silence  fell.  'Tis  thus  the  nat- 
ural orator,  sure  of  the  audience,  grasps  its  feelings, 
and,  with  no  doubt  or  fear  of  results,  bows  and  bends 
and  sways  it  to  the  will.  Nor  may  it  be  a  cause  of  won- 
der, with  the  finished  speaker,  who  brings  long  years  of 
experience  and  patient  labor  to  the  task  of  understand- 
ing human  nature  and  its  varied  emotions,  together  with 
the  springs  which  actuate  all  human  conduct, — it  is  not 
surprising  that  such  a  one  might  hold  the  interested 
hearers  in  a  grip  of  steel;  but  in  the  case  of  a  girl, 
young,  not  twenty,  just  from  school,  with  nothing  but  a 
sense  of  unerring  right  to  sustain  her,  it  was  little  short 
of  marvelous — miraculous,  that  the  mad  lynchers  struck 
attitudes  of  frozen,  rigid  attention  in  the  very  tracks  in 
which  De's  ringing  voice  had  found  them. 

She  could  not  have  explained  how  the  words  came  to 
her,  but  come  they  did — sweeping  on,  making  resonant 
music  by  the  wood,  as  of  some  forest  cascade  of  glancing, 
purest  waters.  Plunging  fearlessly  over  impediments, 
carrying  all  before  it,  came  the  flood  of  her  heart's  first 
born  address  to  cool  and  quiet  her  maddened  hearers, 
there. 

"You!  You  men — you,  who  have  hearts  for  home; 
you,  who  love  mother,  father,  your  wives  and  children; 
you,  who  may  need  justice,  yourselves,  some  day;  you, 
that  want  to  send  this  man,"  and  her  finger  pointed 


188  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

unfalteringly  at  the  captive,  who,  dust  covered,  blood 
stained  from  the  rough  handling  of  the  mob  and  gazing 
in  a  species  of  wondering  trance  at  the  inspired  counte- 
nance of  the  girl  in  front  of  him,  stood  with  the  throng 
forming  his  captors, — 'that  would  send  this  man  to — 
hell,"  said  De  bravely  and  unflinchingly,  "where  you 
that  do  it,  be  sure,  will  follow, — you, — you,  stay.'* 
She  had  not  only  their  attention  by  this  time,  but  their 
interest,  as  well.  "There  are  those  here  who  can  decide 
the  justice  of  this  man's  case  better  than  we,"  she  con- 
tinued with  her  finger  still  extended  unwaveringly  in 
the  direction  of  the  prisoner,  while  she  began  to  experi- 
ence a  strange,  exhilarating  sense  of  exultant  joy  in  the 
power  that  held  the  mob  in  check.  "Let  those,  whose 
business  it  is,  have  him.  i\Ir.  White,  ]\Ir.  Griscomb,'* 
referring  to  the  lawyer-politician,  ' '  Mr.  Likkum,  Parson 
Woods,  and  the  sheriff,  who  has  been  cruelly  struck 
down  in  exercising  his  right  to  the  man — 'they  are  the 
cool  and  proper  ones.  Hold!"  cried  De,  with  upraised 
hand,  as  she  perceived  an  impatient  unrest  in  the  crowd. 

At  this  moment,  the  restored  sheriff  determinedly 
and  courageously  made  his  way  to  her  side. 

She  had  won;  the  intention  of  reckless  and  disor- 
dered lawlessness  had  been  arrested — broken;  the  mob^ 
after  a  few  politic  words  from  the  sheriff,  quietly  dis- 
persed,— separated,  melted  imperceptibly  away, — its 
passions  as  quickly  subsiding  as  they  had  arisen,  and 
with  it  as  silently  and  mysteriously  vanished  Jason 
Jump. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


BRAD     SIMONS     IGNOMINIOUSLY     COMES     TO     GRIEF,     WHERE 
SOME  MIGHT  THINK  HE  BELONGS. 

Ann  ^lariah  Saunders,  neat  and  prim,  was  waiting. 
It  was  Saturday.  Bob  Likkum  might  be  expected  to 
ride  by  any  minute  from  his  accustomed  weekly  visit  to 

the  town  of  T .     On  this  particular  afternoon,  for 

some  unaccountable  reason,  Bob's  arrival  was  belated. 
Ann  glanced  at  the  clock,  in  her  scrupulously  clean 
"settin'  room."  The  hour  was  half  past  three — a  half 
hour  past  the  time  at  which,  for  seven  happy  years,  these 
two  had  met  in  Bob's  passing,  and  silently  plighted 
their  as  yet  unspoken  faith — for  seven  more  happy  years 
were  they  ready  to  do  the  same !  But  what  could  it  mean  ? 
Like  the  veiled  Moorish  woman,  she  had  shrunk  from 
exposure,  and  waited  through  the  years,  in  the  cloister 
of  her  retirement.  Now,  however,  it  was  too  much ;  and 
Ann  rose  restlessly  from  her  chair,  and  went  to  the  door. 
As  the  Ann  of  story,  who  once  watched  for  her  knight, 
she  gazed  wistfully  adown  the  road  for  her  love.  There, 
at  the  door,  the  watcher  drew  a  quick,  happy  sigh  of  re- 
lief, for  here  he  came  for  whom  she  watched.  Sir  Robert 
Likkum,  astride  of  his  roan,  rode  up  to  the  house. 

Hitching  his  horse  to  the  fence,  Likkum,  as  though 
some  mutual  understanding  could  be  expected  to  exist 
between  himself  and  Ann  relating  to  his  slight  delay  in 
arrival,  said,  as  he  tugged  at  the  end  of  the  hitch  strap 
after  tying  the  knot, 

"Heerd  about  it,  did  ye?" 

189 


190  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"Bob,  what  on  earth  do  you  mean?  I  ain't  heard 
anything, — what  ? " 

"Wy,  now,  you  don't  say!  About  tryin' — them 
fellers  a-tryin'  to  lynch  the  man — but,"  broke  off  Bob, 
suddenly,  "don't  reckon  you  heerd  'bout  Zeke  Smithin 
gittin'  killed,  either,  then?" 

"No.  Oh!  Robert,  was  pore  Zeke  Smithin  killed?" 
exclaimed  Ann  Mariah. 

"Shore  an'  certain,"  replied  Bob  who,  by  this  time, 
had  completed  to  his  satisfaction  the  knot  that  tied  his 
horse  to  the  fence,  and  who  removed  his  hat  and  wiped 
his  perspiring  brow. 

"Oh!  Robert,  do  tell  me, — how— how  did  it  hap- 
pen?"" ejaculated  Ann  Mariah  with  startled  little  cries. 

Bob  Likkum  recounted  what  had,  that  day,  tran- 
spired concerning  the  death  of  Zeke  Smithin. 

"And,"  wound  up  Bob  comfortably,  "they  fin'ly 
got  the  feller  tuh  jail." 

It  was  here  deemed  only  proper  by  Ann  to  invite 
Robert  into  the  house,  which  she  did;  and,  once  more, 
was  as  the  Moorish  lady  of  the  veil.  She,  thereupon, 
following  the  usual  feminine  method,  seated  Bob  and 
herself,  took  her  sewing,  and  became  mysteriously  re- 
mote. 

"Well,  now,  jes'  you  look,"  exclaimed  Bob  Likkum, 
admiringly,  "at  that  there  sowin'  o'  yourn!  's  white  an 
delicate  ez  snow." 

"Think  it's  pretty,  do  ye?"  observed  the  needle- 
woman, with  a  shade  of  coquetry. 

"Jes'  like  yer  own  spotless  life,"  replied  Likkum, 
who  was  equal,  in  his  own  way,  to  the  very  best  things 
William  White  ever  wrote.  "I  say,  Ann  Mariah,"  and 
Bob  cleared  his  throat;  the  object  of  his  address 
trembled — it   had  the  sound   of  "something  coming;" 


BRAD  SIMONS  COMES  TO  GRIEF.  191 

"ye  see,  we — you  and  me — have  know'd  each  other,  now, 
quite  a  spell." 

"Yes,  Robert,"  said  the  simple  hearted  woman,  "I 
was  just  thinkin',  yisti'day — " 

Of  all  sad  words  of  tongue  or  pen, 

The  saddest  are  these:   It  might  have  been!'" 

The  lines  of  the  poet  Whittier  supply  the  words  of 
the  present  author,  and  do  not  convey  the  speech  of  Ann 
Mariah,  At  this  moment,  Parson  Woods  stopped  his 
sorrel  at  the  Saunders'  gate.  Ann  had  listened  to  the 
approaching  hoofbeats  for  some  seconds;  and,  with  a 
sigh  that  would  have  been  impatient  in  another,  but  in 
her  was  only  resigned,  she  rose  and  went  to  the  door. 

"Good  day,"  called  the  parson,  cheerily.  "How's 
times  with  you  ? ' ' 

"Nicely,  parson,  nicely,  thankee,"  rejoined  Ann 
Mariah  who,  by  this  time,  had  smoothed  out  all  traces 
of  displeasure  from  her  placid  and  contented  face, — ' '  be 
ye  going  to  'light  (alight)  ?" 

The  parson,  today,  was  riding  horseback, — the 
"shay"  was  having  a  rest,  and  offering  no  further  temp- 
tation to  highwaymen  and  footpads. 

"Think  I  shall,"  said  the  minister;  and,  after  tying 
the  sorrel  alongside  of  Bob's  saddle  horse,  followed  Ann 
Mariah  into  the  house. 

"Robert,  I  certainly  ought  to  encourage  your  go- 
ings-on," said  Parson  Woods,  with  agreeable  though, 
perhaps,  rather  daring  insinuation  coming  from  a  pro- 
fessional minister,  as  he  spied  Bob  Likkum  sitting  in 
graceful  abandon  on  the  sofa;  while  the  blushing  Ann 
Mariah  stood,  with  her  back  to  the  two  men,  busying 
herself  with  her  face  bent  over  her  work  basket  on  the 
table,— "just  in  my  line,"  with  good  natured  joviality 


192  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

continued  the  speaker.  "Bob,  you  must  make  it  a 
mighty  good  fee,  in  such  an  attractive  case." 

"Law!  parson,  how  you  do  talk,"  cried  Ann,  not 
really  displeased  at  this  from  the  preacher,  but  whose 
blushes  were  certainly  in  no  way  diminished  by  the 
pleasantly  and  genially  aimed  speech  of  their  beloved 
and  implicitly  trusted  pastor.  Likkiim  continued  to 
gaze  upon  the  premises  with  most  becoming  and  self 
possessed  unconcern. 

Ann  hospitably  bustled  about,  \\ath  an  additional 
and  quiet  alacrity ;  placed  a  welcome  chair  for  their  vis- 
itor, and  employed  herself  in  the  making  of  the  minister 
comfortable  and  at  home;  and  they  were  all  soon  very 
cozy  and  at  their  ease. 

"Most  wonderful  thing  I  ever  heard  of,  about  De 
Braddock  stopping  that  mob,"  continued  the  parson, 
sociably  extending  the  conversation.  "Did  you  ever 
hear  the  like ! ' '  said  he,  his  memory  glowing  with  the 
recollection  of  De's  act.  The  minister,  together  with 
every  other  man  and  every  woman  and  child  in  the  town 
hard  by,  whence  he  had  just  ridden,  had  been  fired  with 
the  knowledge,  while  sharing  with  many  the  actual 
sight,  of  the  girl's  extraordinary  behavior.  "That  girl," 
pursued  the  preacher  enthusiastically,  "could  preach 
the  gospel  to  the  heathen." 

"Reckon  that's  about  right,  parson,"  said  Likkum. 

"/  should  have  died,"  said  Ann  Mariah. 

"Reckon  few  women  would  have  been  equal  to  it," 
assented  the  minister.  "Did  you  hear,  Robert,  about 
Tom  before  you  left  town,  to-day?"  inquired  Parson 
Woods. 

"Tom — who,  parson?"  queried  Bob. 

"John  Braddock 's  paid  off  a  note  to  Brad  Simons; 
and  it's  leaked  out  that  it's  that  note's  what  Simons  has 
been  holding  against  Tom  Bolers  and  John  Braddock. 


BRAD  SIMONS  COMES  TO  GRIEF.  193 

Someone  got  it  down  to  town,  that  Bolers,  not  long  ago, 
forged  Brad  Simons'  name,  and,  in  order  to  keep  Brad 
from  sending  Tom — you  know  John  stands  by  his  wife's 
brother,  and  you  can't  blame  him  for  it, — in  order  to 
keep  Brad  from  sending  Tom  to  the  penitentiary,  John 
gave  his  note  to  Brad  Simons  for  the  sum  which  Tom  got 
on  the  forgery." 

"So  Brad  won't  prosycute,  eh?"  said  Likkum,  get- 
ting a  little  more  out  of  his  lazy  position  and  sitting 
somewhat  straighter  on  the  sofa. 

"Seems  not,"  returned  the  minister. 

"Wuz  that  all  John  Braddock  promised,  ef  Brad 
Simons  'u  'd  let  up  on  Tom  Bolers  ? ' '  questioned  Likkum. 

"Didn't  hear  anything  else,"  replied  the  parson. 

"I  suppose,"  continued  Bob,  "ye  knows  that  'air 
Brad  is  pow  'rf ul  sweet  on  John 's  sister  De  ? " 

"Why,  no,  Likkum,  I  can't  say  that  I  do,"  was  the 
parson's  interested  rejoinder. 

"Well,  he  is,  an'  that's  the  milk  in  the  cokynut," 
concluded  Bob  emphatically. 

"Parson,"  obser^-ed  Ann  Mariah  in  this  suggestive 
connection,  "will  you  and  Robert  have  a  glass  of  butter- 
milk?" 

The  offer  was  accepted. 

"You  think  John — ?"  began  the  pastor  inquiringly, 
when  Ann  Mariah 's  shrewd  swain  interrupted  him. 

' '  Don 't  think  John  uz  conshus  uv  anything ;  but  that 
'air  Brad  Simons  'u'd  let  Tom  off  to  git  'em  all  under 
obligashuns  to  'im,  fur  his  own  selfish  eends.  Brad,  I  sez, 
ain't  ther  man  ter  he'p  anyone  without  a  pow'rfuller 
motive  'an  love  uv  naybor,  consarn  him !  beggin '  yer 
pardon,  parson,"  said  Bob  Likkum. 

"You  think,  then,"  observed  Parson  Woods,  "that 
Simons  is  meaning  to  hold  this  forgery  over  De  through 
her  affection  for  John?" 


194  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"Don't  think,"  replied  Bob  intuitively — "I  know.'* 

"Well,  laws  me!"  ejaculated  Ann  Mariah  darting  to 
the  door,  "here,  I  do  'low,"  she  went  on  in  tones  of 
pleased  surprise  and  hospitality,  ' '  's  Missis  Braddock, 
an'  De,  and  Uncle  Peter,"  and,  in  fact,  nearing  the  gate, 
as  Ann  reached  the  door,  was  visible  a  big  red  farm 
wagon  (Uncle  Peter  had  not  yet  grown  fashionable  to 
the  extent  of  a  surrey) ,  with  De,  radiant  after  her  sing- 
ular triumph  over  the  mob,  sitting  by  the  side  of  Mother 
Braddock  on  the  rear  seat.  Uncle  Peter  was  driving, 
with  the  fat  farmboy  Esau  on  the  seat  in  front, — Uncle 
Peter,  on  all  occasions  when  present,  invariably  and 
dogmatically  insisting  on,  himself,  performing  the  func- 
tion of  a  driver,  evidencing  a  characteristic  obstinacy 
which  veined  his  entire  nature  with  great  satisfaction  to 
himself. 

"Howdee,  Missis  Braddock,"  called  Ann,  cordially, 
from  the  door, — "howdee,  Uncle  Peter, — howdee,  De. 
Hitch — come  right  in,  won't  ye?  Awful  hot, — glass  o' 
cool  buttermilk  er,  maybe.  Uncle  Peter 'd  like  a  glass  uv 
cider?"  Ann  Mariah,  having  reached  this  conclusion  to 
her  simple  address  of  hospitality  and  welcome,  waited, 
with  sunny  confidence,  the  results. 

Uncle  Peter  cried, 

"Whoa,"  opposite  the  gate. 

And  Mother  Braddock  exclaimed, 

"I  do  declare!" 

And  De  said,  smilingly, 
* '  Ann  Mariah,  if  you  can  give  me  a  drink  of  water — ' ' 

When  Ann,  now  bent  upon  entertaining  man,  wo- 
man, beast  or  child  of  the  neighborhood,  interrupted 
with, 

"Git  right  out, — right  out,"  and  that  settled  it. 

The  team  was  hitched,  with  Parson  Woods'  and  Bob 
Likkum's  riding  horses  for  company,  and  Mother  Brad- 


BRAD  SIMONS  COMES  TO  GRIEF.  195 

dock  and  De  and  Uncle  Peter,  not  forgetting  Esau,  the 
fat  farmboy,  all  entered  the  cool  and  refreshing  haven 
of  Miss  Saunders'  pretty,  vine-covered  cottage. 

Heat  and  thirst  allayed, 

"Mother  Braddock,"  said  Parson  Woods,  his 
straightforward  nature  rebelling  at  what  he  had  just 
heard  from  Likkum  of  the  possibility  of  Simons'  selfish 
dealings  respecting  the  winning  of  De,  "we  have  heard 
of  the  fortunate  conclusion  of  the  affair  of  John's  inter- 
est in — "  the  parson  hesitated.  He  believed,  however, 
in  as  little  secrec}''  as  w^ent  with  decency  and  proceeded, 
"We  have  heard  of  the  happiness  of  John  in  settling — " 

"Parson,  I  guess  you're  right — no  use  makin'  a 
peskj^  skeleton  in  the  closet  of  the  matter,"  interrupted 
Uncle  Peter  deliberately;  "an'  so  I  tells  mother,  an' 
thanks  you  hearty." 

"I  wanted  to  tell  you  both,  Uncle  Peter,  said  the 
pastor,  "that  we  are  glad  everything  is  happily  settled 
relating  to  Tom  Bolers. " 

"No  one  is  gladder  than  I  am,"  said  Brad  Simons, 
who  had  reached  the  door  unperceived,  and  who  had 
heard  enough  to  divine  the  subject  of  the  conversation 
that  had  just  transpired. 

The  cattleman,  following  the  payment  that  daj'',  by 
John  Braddock,  of  the  latter 's  note  in  the  Bolers'  affair, 
had  given  further  scheming  and  resolute  consideration 
to  his  own  designs  on  De  Braddock.  Like  all  selfish  and 
unscrupulous  persons,  Brad  Simons  was  not  disposed  to 
abandon  an  object  on  which  he  had  set  his  heart.  The 
more  he  reflected,  as  he  rode  up  from  town  on  this  day, 
the  more,  inflamed  to  such  a  pitch  had  grown  his  pas- 
sions, did  he  fall  into  a  craze  of  longing  for  the  beautiful 
country  girl.  So  that,  when,  perceiving  Uncle  Peter's 
Avagon  hitched  at  Ann  Mariah's  door,  he  reached  the 


196  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

Saunders'  cottage,  his  determination  to  obtain  his  de- 
sires had  become  as  a  fate. 

The  note  had  been  taken  up  before  the  date  of  its 
maturity;  and  something  told  the  cattleman  that  there 
was  an  element  of  unusual  irregularity  about  this  sud- 
den and  unlooked  for  satisfaction  of  his  financial  de- 
mands upon  John  Braddoek.  What  was  that  element? 
Had  not  John  Braddoek  threatened  to  kill  Zeke  Smith- 
in  ?  Zeke  was  knowTi  to  have  won  at  play.  And  permit- 
ting a  flow  of  recollection  relating  to  the  recent  tragedy 
to  tinge  the  atmosphere  of  his  unhealthy  mental  views, 
Simons  had  reached  the  doorway  at  the  climax  of  Parson 
Woods'  humane  speech. 

Gazing  watchfully  and  intently  about  him,  Brad, 
without  waiting  for  an  invitation,  entered  the  room 
where  sat  the  assembled  guests  of  Ann  Mariah  Saunders. 

"Parson  Woods,"  said  the  Hoosier  grazier  as  he 
entered,  and  smiling  genially  on  those  present,  "I  am 
delighted  to  hear  you  expressing  sentiments  that  do  you 
honor.  Now  that  poor  Tom  Boler's  misfortune  has  be- 
come community  property,"  Simons  himself  had  cun- 
ningly set  the  tale  afloat  when,  payment  of  the  note 
having  been  made,  he  saw  he  could  gain  more  by  the 
community's  knowledge  of  his  previous  forbearance, — 
"now,"  continued  Brad,  "that  the  matter  has  become 
community  property,  I  don't  mind  saying  the  money, 
which  only  pressing  necessity  made  me  accept  from 
John,"  (-this  sounded  plausible),  "has  been  paid,  and 
there  is  no  harm  done.  Ann  Mariah,  I'm  sure  that  but- 
termilk is  good,"  smoothly  continued  the  ready  plotter 
pointing  to  a  plain,  old  fashioned  glass  pitcher,  through 
the  transparent  and  gleaming  sides  of  which  the  gener- 
ous beverage  in  question  could  be  seen. 

Ann  ^lariah,   who  cordially  disliked  Brad   Simons, 


BRAD  SIMONS  COMES  TO  GRIEF.  197 

was  left  here  no  alternative  but  to  press  upon  his  accept- 
ance a  draught  of  the  refreshment  at  hand. 

Bob  Likkum  had  been  eying  the  late  arrival  with  no 
great  favor.  Now,  at  this  turn  of  events,  he  quietly 
drawled, 

"■  Putty  weak  fur  your  tipple,  ain't  it.  Brad?" 

Bob  was  a  personage,  one  of  the  few  objects,  indeed, 
that  Brad  Simons  really  feared.  The  direct  truth  and 
human  fairness  of  the  man  always  set  Simons'  teeth  on 
edge.  He  made  no  reply  to  Likkum 's  sally,  deeming,  in 
an  encounter  with  the  famous  "Wabash  humorist,  dis- 
cretion to  be  the  better  part  of  valor. 

Brad  quaffed  his  buttermilk  composedly  enough; 
and,  De  slipping  out  of  the  house  to  pluck  a  nosegay 
from  Ann  JNIariah's  gardens,  he  waited  a  moment  for 
Parson  Woods  to  launch  one  of  his  mild  persuasions 
against  the  evils  of  intemperance;  when  Likkum, 
whose  own  fad  was  the  subject  of  "a  wholesome  modera- 
tion," becoming  absorbed  in  the  parson's  remarks, 
Simons  glided  out  among  the  flower  beds  in  pursuit  of 
the  sister  of  John  Braddock. 

"Miss  Braddock,"  said  the  farmer-grazier  as  he 
joined  the  young  girl,  "trying  to  gild  the  lily?  Floral 
or  other  decoration  hardly  increases  such  loveliness  as 
yours,"  the  man's  hot  glance  was  full  on  her  face. 

While  De  Braddock  was  advised,  through  recent 
happenings,  that  circumstances  pointed  to  a  release  of 
John  from  all  obligations  to  Brad  Simons,  yet  there  was 
something  indefinable  in  the  situation  that  seemed  to 
render  it  impossible  for  her  to  break  the  spell  of  an  un- 
pleasant interview,  and  seek  her  preference  in  the  house 
with  her  father  and  mother.  Perhaps  it  was  only  an 
instinct,  on  her  part,  to  treat  the  speaker  with  courtesy 
that  kept  her  there.  She,  likewise,  remembered  his  act 
in  rescuing  her  at  the  fire.     So,  now,  she  merely  smiled 


198  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

as  she  continued  to  cull  her  nosegay,  and  her  smile  was 
of  that  non-commital  kind  that  guarded  the  operator 
from  too  open  or  direct  further  attack  of  the  objection- 
able masculine  overtures. 

"De, "  said  Brad  Simons  advancing  close  to  the  girl's 
side,  and  touching  with  the  tips  of  his  burning  fingers 
her  trembling  hand,  which  she  instantly  withdrew,  "do 
you  know,  to  me,  you  are  the  most  beautiful — " 

' '  I  have  told  you  it  was  useless  for  you  to  address  me 
this  way,"  said  De  firmly. 

"But  you  must  hear  me,"  urged  Brad. 

' '  I  cannot, ' '  repeated  the  girl  determinedly. 

"You  shall,"  said  Simons  brutally,  forgetting  him- 
self. 

"Mr.  Simons,"  replied  the  object  of  his  address,  fix- 
ing upon  the  unpleasing  countenance  bending  over  her 
a  steady  look  from  her  large,  clear,  brown  eyes,  "you 
will  oblige  me  by  stepping  out  of  my  way,"  all  thought 
of  everything  but  repugnance  asserting  itself. 

The  two  stood  for  a  moment,  each  with  eyes  trying 
to  control  the  other's  will,  when  De's  strong,  innocent 
young  gaze  proved  the  superior,  and  Simons,  breathing 
a  little  more  quickly  than  usual,  moved,  as  if  by  an  in- 
voluntary impulse,  to  the  side  of  the  path. 

' '  Thank  you, ' '  said  the  girl  simply,  and  passed  on. 

"Do  you  know,"  asked  Brad  Simons  in  a  low  tone 
of  unmistakably  evil  insinuation,  as  his  companion  made 
evident  purpose  to  proceed  at  once  to  the  house,  ' '  where 
your  brother  got  the  money  to  pay  me?"  It  was  a 
chance  thrust  of  the  man,  and  wrung  from  him  in  des- 
peration as  he  saw,  in  her  determined  repudiation  of 
him,  a  prospect  of  final  defeat.  It  touched  her  with  no 
doubt  of  the  honesty  of  her  brother's  methods  in  obtain- 
ing the  price  of  release  from  the  consideration  of 
Simons;  but,  again,  and  this  time  no  politeness  infused 


BRAD  SIMONS  COMES  TO  GRIEF.  199 

any  element  into  the  position  of  affairs,  she  was  instinct- 
ively halted  in  her  footsteps.  The  restraint  placed  upon 
her  progress  by  the  man's  tone  had,  with  other  things, 
certainly  implied  a  threat  from  that  man  to  her.  This 
alone  may,  at  first,  have  operated  to  cause  her  to  pause ; 
but  there  was  something  else  which  caused  her  to  hesi- 
tate; and  Simons  found  out  what  it  was  to  outrage  or 
attempt  to  outrage  the  feelings  of  a  sister  loving  as 
tenderly  as  she  did  the  absent  and  insulted  brother.  The 
double  implication  in  Simons'  question,  though  unex- 
plained, was  as  a  flash  of  lightning  conveyed  to  her,  and 
like  an  explosion,  when  a  lighted  fuse  is  at  the  powder 
magazine,  was  the  quick  response. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  exclaimed,  wheeling  on 
him. 

Simons  could  not  have  uttered  his  thoughts — his 
meaning — had  his  life  depended  upon  an  answer  in 
detail. 

He  knew  John  Braddock  had  threatened  to  kill  Zeke 
Smithin.  He  knew  Zeke  had  been  killed.  And  he  knew 
Smithin  was  supposed  to  have  had  money  on  his  person 
when  death  arrived.  He  knew  the  money  was  missing 
from  the  body  of  the  dead  man,  when  the  solemn  end  of 
the  gambler  was  first  discovered, — this  was  what  he  had 
to  prompt  the  unfeeling  blow  he  had  dealt  his  victim. 
Even  had  he  known  more,  it  is  possible  that  the  fierce 
unflinching  courage  and  scorn  in  the  girl's  face,  which 
increased  and  overwhelmed  him  to  the  last,  had,  at  the 
final  moment,  sent  him  abashed  and  overthrown  from 
her  presence,  for  her  look  withered  him  and  grew  and 
continued  to  burn  and  blast  his  soul.  He  knew,  at  that 
moment,  nothing  save  his  own  distorted  suspicions,  and 
stood  doubly  silenced  before  the  offended  goddess. 

' '  You  would  cast  some  suspicion  on  my  brother  John, 


200  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

and  threaten  me,  at  the  same  time ! ' '  blazed  De  Brad- 
dock. 

Brad,  who  had  not  been  present  at  the  attempted 
lynching,  and  whose  belief  in  the  part  taken  in  it  by 
De — a  belief  based  upon  a  doubt  of  woman's  sufficiency 
of  courage  in  general — had  been  of  a  somewhat  weak 
and  skeptical  nature,  now  learned  what  was  the  spirit, 
force  and  power  in  the  girl  that  had  quelled  the  mob. 
He  could  not  remove  his  gaze  from  those  flaming  eyes, 
or  then  and  there  he  would  have  laid  do^^^l  his  case  and 
willingly  taken  to  his  waiting  horse  and  ridden  away — 
ridden  away  to  his  cattle  and  books,  and,  mayhap,  who 
knows?  to  the  ultimate  wedded  proprietorship  of  Mona, 
the  pretty  housekeeper.  His  lips  grew  dry,  and  he  found 
himself  trying  to  moisten  them  with  his  parched  tongue. 
He  smiled  a  sickly  half  smile  of  weak  apprehension. 

"You, — you, — why,  you  coward!"  cried  the  justly 
incensed  girl,  white  and  red  by  turns.  "You, — why, 
you, — shall  I  call  the  men  ? ' '  said  she,  abruptly  breaking 
off  in  her  scathing  denunciation.  ' '  ]\Ien !  what  for  ? — not 
to  encounter  a  man,  for  you're  not  one.  Why,  Brad 
Simons,  you're  not  worthy  to  be  in  the  same  world  with 
my  brother  John,  or — with  me,"  she  added  with  a  quick 
perception  of  the  most  effective  application  of  the  last 
whistling  cut  of  the  rawhide  in  her  words. 

Brad  involuntarily  threw  up  his  hands  in  front  of  his 
face,  and  bent  his  head,  as  if  warding  off  a  veritable  lash 
from  a  real  whip.  He  was  pale  and  trembling,  and  an 
oozy,  clammy  moisture  was  breaking  out  on  face  and 
body. 

"Get  out  of  the  yard,  before  I  set  the  dog  on  you," 
and,  as  though  anticipating  the  need  of  his  services,  a 
low  growl  was  heard  at  the  rear  of  the  furious  girl, 
where,  unnoticed,  the  Braddock  Newfoundland,  that 
invariably  followed  the  family  to  town  and  home  agaiUj 


BRAD  SIMONS  COMES  TO  GRIEF.  201 

had  crept,  and  was  undeniably  prepared  to  protect  his 
mistress.  "Go,"  said  the  girl,  authoritatively,  to  the 
humiliated  and  defeated  man,  in  a  tone  which  brooked 
no  refusal ;  and  Brad  Simons  turned,  with  a  muttered 
imprecation ;  left  the  yard ;  mounted  his  horse,  and  rode 
away. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


THE  HAUNTED  WOOD. 


A  woman,  mowing  and  mumbling  over  a  fire  of  dried 
twigs  and  withered  leaves,  sat  upon  the  greensward  in 
a  sequestered  glen  among  the  trees  growing  thickly 
about  her.  The  twilight  had  just  expired  leaving  its  last 
crimson  trace  upon  the  west.  The  shadows  in  the  wood 
deepened  beneath  the  flickering  firelight.  The  woman 
was  alone.  Ever  and  anon  she  thrust  back  from  her  wild, 
deep  lined  face  the  long  hair  hanging  in  loose  strings 
about  her  ears.  Her  skin  had  become  blackened  and 
tanned  by  constant  exposure  to  the  elements,  and  her 
eyes  burned  with  a  hollow  fierceness,  gleaming,  in  the 
firelight,  like  those  of  some  wild  animal.  As  she  threw 
back  her  hair  with  a  querulous,  impatient  tmtching  of 
the  gnarled,  bony  fingers,  she  would  glance  swiftly  and 
covertly  at  the  outlying  gloom  showing  beyond  the  line 
of  light  cast  by  the  fire  and  confusing  the  surrounding 
forest  in  a  mass  of  blurred  shadow.  She  moved  rest- 
lessly. 

"Alone, — all  alone,"  she  muttered.  "But  I'll  bring 
the  spirits — the  brave,  bold  spirits, — yes,  I  will.  They'll 
talk  to  me. — 

O  where  are  the  hearts  of  yestere'en, 

And  th'  loves  of  long-  ago '? 
The  grass  on  their  graves  is  bonny  green, 

And  the  shadows  come  and  go," 

202 


THE  HAUNTED  WOOD.  203 

crooned  the  female,  a  gleam  of  wild  and  fitful  sadness  in 
her  sunken  eyes, 

"An'  th'  shadows  come  and  go. 

I'll  raise  the  spirits,"  she  wildly  repeated. 

The  sybil-crone,  spectral,  unearthly,  rose  gradually 
to  her  feet,  at  the  same  time  waving  her  thin  and  emaci- 
ated hands  fantastically  over  the  fire.  Her  right  hand 
sought  a  light  wooden  staff  resting  upon  the  ground  at 
her  side,  and,  now  quite  erect,  she  passed  it,  with  a 
peculiar,  ghostly  motion,  through  the  air  above  the  blaze. 
Her  gaze  became  fixed,  as  in  a  kind  of  rapt  trance,  upon 
the  point  in  space  which  her  wand  had  just  feverishly 
traversed.  She  stood  toweringly  upright,  uttering  some 
kind  of  supernal,  unearthly  incantations,  and  the  rod 
she  still  held  within  her  grasp  sank  slowly  to  her  side 
and  rested  its  one  end  upon  the  ground  v/hile,  at  the 
other,  was  her  hand  clasped  closely  about  it.  The  long, 
thin,  bony  claw  like  finger  of  the  left  hand,  with  her 
arm  outstretched,  pointed  at  the  empty  atmosphere,  as 
she  spoke  in  wild,  strange  accents,  invoking  the  spirits 
of  the  air : 

Spirits  evil,  spirits  fair, — 
Those  that  tell  us  what  we  are, — 
Those  that  warn  and  those  that  rail, 
Tell  they  best  and  worst,  or  fail ! " 

The  smoke  from  the  forest  fire  mingled  slowly  with 
the  air  about  the  uncanny  female,  and,  as  she  swayed  in 
a  sort  of  weird,  rhythmic  motion,  from  side  to  side,  a 
grotesque  form  appeared  to  come  over  the  vapors  rising 
out  of  the  flames. 

"Ha!  ha!"  she  laughed  sharply  and  shrilly;  ''they 
come — they  come." 

"What  say  you?"  she  cried,  after  a  pause.    "I  hear 


204  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

ye.  Whut  is't?  Aye,  aye.  Go  on.  Go  on.  I  alius 
thought  so.  Ye  whisper  warnin's  'bout  Brad  Simons, 
an'  pretty  De,  an',"  the  strange  mad  creature  paused, 
with  a  look  of  real  and  startled  understanding  in  her 
seamed  and  rugged  face, — ' '  what 's  that  ? ' '  she  breathed 
in  a  subdued,  awe  filled  voice.  ' '  Ye  say, — ha !  Hank  ? — • 
Yes,  yes,  whut  uv  him?  'Beware  De  Braddock,  er — ' 
well,  well,  well? — "  she  screamed  impatiently,  but  the 
chain  of  connections,  which  had  held  thus  far  the  im- 
passioned and  frenzied  invoker  of  the  immaterial  world, 
had  snapped.  She  sank  exhausted,  by  the  fire.  After  a 
bit,  she  looked  wearily  around. 

"What  keeps  'em  so  long,  I  wonder.  I  guess  I'm 
crazy,"  said  the  poor  thing,  passing  her  hand  uncer- 
tainly and  pitifully  over  her  worn  face.  "I  know,  at 
times,  I  have  something  'at  sets  my  head  a-goin'  like  's 
if  'twuz  on  wheels.  But,  I  reckon,  they's  other  times  I 
knows  ez  much  ez  anyone.  I  wish  them  times  'u'd  stay 
longer,  an'  I  could  tell  'em  all  whut  I  knows.  Folks  kin 
look  out  w'en  them  times  comes  ter  stay."  The  forlorn 
creature  nodded  her  head  many  times  over  the  fire,  and 
placed  a  supply  of  fuel  on  the  flames. 

"Here,  ye  ol'  rip,"  said  a  rough  voice  suddenly,  be- 
hind her,  ' '  what  you  puttin '  a  spell  on  now,  huh  ? ' ' 

The  woman  started  violently.  She  turned  with  a 
swift  motion  on  the  newcomer. 

"Much  a  brute  ez  ever,  Hank,  ben't  ye?"  retorted 
she,  pushing  back  her  hair  and  gazing  intently  and 
piercingly  up  into  the  black-bearded  face  above  her.  "I 
ain't  alius  crazy — wisht  I  wuz.  Then  I  wouldn't  go  w^ld 
a-thinkin' — a  thinkin' " 

* '  A-thinkin '  whut  charmin '  kumpny  I  be  °?  Ha !  ha ! 
— is  that  it?"  laughed  Hank. 

' '  I  dunno — I  dunno, ' '  muttered  the  woman ;  "  I  dun- 


THE  HAUNTED  WOOD.  205 

no  whut  'tis,  I'm  sure  ...  Is  them  di'munds  in 
yer  hair,  Hank?"  she  inquired  with  placid  abruptness. 

Beneath  their  coarser  air  there  had  appeared  a  touch 
of  affection ;  and  now  the  man,  patting  the  other  gently 
on  the  head,  said  humoringly, 

"Never  mind  about  the  di'munds,  mother.  I  kin 
help  ye  get  even  with  Brad  Simons,  though." 

"Kin  ye  bring  justice  on  him — kin  ye  ?  Kin  ye  bring 
Brad  Simons  to  justice?"  exclaimed  Rachel  Bolers 
aroused  to  a  sudden  uncontrollable  fierceness  of  manner. 

"De  Braddock — "  began  her  companion,  when 
Rachel  broke  out  in  unfeigned  alarm, 

"De  Braddock — De  Braddock!"  she  screamed,  her 
highly  wrought  and  inflamed  faculties  seizing  upon  the 
results  of  her  recent  wild  incantations; — "leave  'er  be, 
Hank;  leave  'er  be.    She'll  be  yer  death.    Leave'  er  be." 

"Ye  crazy  vixen,  what  d'ye  mean?"  ejaculated 
Hank. 

"The  fates  reads  yer  doom  in  the  daughter  uv  ol* 
Peter  Braddock,"  cried  the  woman.  "The  spirits  says 
ye '11  die." 

"Then,  I'll  come  back  and  ha'nt  ye,"  retorted  the 
robber,  with  grim  humor. 

"Don't  say  it — don't  say  it — the  fates  reads  it — the 
fates  reads  yer  doom." 

' '  They  do,  do  they  ? ' '  grinned  the  outlaw. 

"Ye  remember,  hereafter,  whut  I  tells  ye,"  eagerly 
and  earnestly  implored  the  overwrought  hag. 

"Yes,  I'll  remember,"  rejoined  Black  Hank,  sar- 
donically. "I'll,  same  time,  remember  th'  moon's  made 
uv  green  cheese.  I  jes'  heerd,  terday,"  continued  he 
meaningly,  at  the  same  time  narrowly  watching  his  (com- 
panion's pitifully  beseeching  countenance,  "that  Brad 
Simons  wants  to  marry  De  Braddock.  " 

"I'll  help  ye  kill  him  fu'st,"  shrieked  the  frantic 


206  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

woman,  "He's  a  villain  who  lies  and  deceives  helpless 
wimen,  that 's  what  he  is. ' ' 

"Humph!"  grunted  Black  Hank  in  his  beard; 
"reckon  thet's  about  it.  Rachel,  did  Brad  Simons  wrong 
your  daughter  Nance?"  queried  the  outlaw,  sternly  . 

The  suspicious  creature  looked  up  cunningly,  in  the 
manner  of  the  deranged. 

"I'll  tell  ye,  ef  ye  kin  makes  justice  law  and  law 
justice." 

"I  hed  'em  fetch  yer  things  frum  yer  gal  Nance. 
Put  'em  down,"  added  the  robber  leader,  turning  to  one 
of  the  band  who,  at  that  moment,  came  into  the  glade 
carrying  a  goodly-sized  bundle  over  his  shoulder. 
"Nance  'magines  yer  very  comfortable  at  ther  nayber's, 
where  ye  leads  her  to  think  ye  stay  most  uv  the  time," 
said  Black  Hank,  returning  his  attention  to  Rachel. 

"Don't  ye  say  nothin'  'bout  my  da'ter  Nance," 
flashed  out  the  other.  "Don't  ye  do  it.  She's  a  good 
gal,  no  matter  what  folks  say,  tho '  I  do  give  her  heaps  o ' 
trouble." 

"I  ain't  sayin'  nothin'  'g'in'  yer  gal,  ye  ongrateful 
animal.  Nex '  time,  I  '11  leave  yer  ol '  traps  where  I  found 
'em." 

"Hank,  dearie,  I  didn't  mean  nothin'.  No.  I  didn't. 
Ye 're  reel  kind,"  said  the  woman  penitently,  "and  I'm 
much  obleeged  to  ye. ' ' 

Accepting  the  earnest  expression  of  these  tokens  of 
appreciation  Mdth  a  gracious  growl,  the  outlaw  chieftain 
and  his  confederate,  the  late  arrival,  withdrew  for  coun- 
Bel,  seating  themselves  upon  the  ground  a  short  distance 
from  the  fire. 

"I've  got  it  in  the  box.  It  was  among  ther  things  on 
deposit,  when  we  cracked  the  bank.  We  kin  make  Brad 
Simons  pay  heavy  fur  it,  ef  he  tries  ter  cut  up  his  tricks 
marryin'  De  Braddock;  and  I  think  I  kin  make  it  still 


THE  HAUNTED  WOOD.  207 

heavier  weth  what  Rachel  Bolers  's  got  in  her  crazy, 
knowin'  ol'  head."  Black  Hank  was  speaking,  where 
the  two  outlaws  were  conferring  earnestly  in  low  tones, 
and  to  all  appearances  unnoticed  by  Rachel. 

But  the  stooped  figure  over  the  fire  had  overheard. 

"So,"  she  muttered,  "they  got  it  outen  the  bank, 
what '11  help  git  even  with  Brad.  It's  in  the  box,  is  it — 
it's  in  the  box!" 

Of  a  sudden,  Rachel  straightened  her  bent  form,  and, 
extending  her  arm  and  long  ghostly  finger,  cried, 
"Look!" 

' '  What  is  it  ye  see,  ye  crittur,  can 't  ye  ever  tell  1 ' ' 
growled  the  chief,  gi\ang,  in  his  knowledge  of  the  way- 
wardness of  the  woman's  fanciful  moods,  but  a  slight 
passing  scrutiny  in  the  direction  in  which  she  had 
pointed.  Black  Hank's  inattention  appeared  justified. 
Nothing  was  visible  seeming  to  call  for  such  forcible 
notice. 

"They  think,  in  the  country  'round,  'at  the  woods  is 
ha'nted.  They  think  I  kin  put  ha'nts  and  spells  on  'em. 
They  know  I  come  here,  an '  they  keep  away.  They  think 
the  woods  is  ha'nted,"  crooned  the  possessed  female. 

There  was  a  stir  somewhere  in  a  thicket  bordering  the 
glen. 

"I  see  things, ' '  intoned  the  vroman ;  " I  see  'em. 

There  was  another  stir  in  the  thicket. 

"They're  alive  with  'em, — the  trees  an'  flowers  an' 
all  the  little  bushes  are  kivered  with  'em,  an'  they're 
a-dancin'  in  the  moonlight." 

A  pair  of  eyes  peered  from  out  the  thicket. 

"Oh,  say,"  cried  the  outlaw  leader,  "shut  up,  cain't 
ye?" 

"There  they  'air, — the  fairies,  elves  an'  pixies,  an' 
th'  wee  broA\Tiies. " 

Black  Hank,  of  an  eminently  practical  turn  of  mind, 


208  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

rumpled  his  heavy  shock  of  black  hair  with  a  gesture  of 
hopelessness,  and  gave  up  in  despair. 

"The  moonlight — the  moonlight!"  cried  Rachel. 
''Thar'  's  the  spirit  uv  justice,  in  the  moonlight." 

"What's  that?"  abruptly  exclaimed  the  outlaw  chief, 
looking  around  with  a  start.  "Shucks!  guess  it's  a  wild- 
cat stirrin'.  They  see  one,  yisterday.  Hen,"  went  on 
the  leader  -wdth  darkling  suspicion,  and  addressing  his 
male  companion  in  vice,  "I'd  like  to  know  whutever  be- 
kum  uv  thet  thar'  tramp,  that  time,  'at  j  'ined  ther  gang, 
an'  then  lit  out.  I  know  I  wuz  a  darn  fool  ter  trust 
him,"  the  man  hastened  to  add,  with  apologetic  humili- 
ty, as  though  anticipating  criticism  of  his  suggested  dis- 
play of  confidence,  "but  he  kindo'  caught  me  on  the 
blind  side  like." 

Hen,  who  had  lighted  a  pipe  and  was  smoking  in  a 
mood  of  contented  acceptance  of  the  various  phases  of 
this  present  life  and  the  life  past  and  the  life  to  come, 
blew  a  cloud  of  smoke  and  let  it  go  at  that. 

"I  see  jewels  a-hangin'  in  the  trees,  an'  a-gleamin'  in 
the  bushes,"  cried  the  wild  female  of  the  wood.  Two 
keen,  piercing  eyes  quickly  vanished  from  an  opening  in 
a  neighboring  thicket,  whence  they  had  been  stealthily 
peering.  "I  sees,"  rambled  on  the  strange  woman, 
"gold  bubbles  in  the  air,"  her  voice  took  on  a  chanting 
rhythm.  ' '  I  hears  voices  of  the  spirits  in  the  forest,  and 
the  footsteps — "  she  strained  her  hearing,  for  a  moment, 
at  the  adjacent  bush,  where  had,  but  a  moment  since, 
gleamed  the  eyes — "the  footsteps  of  angels  in  the 
clouds. ' ' 

Her  companions,  at  last,  seemed  to  have  forgotten 
the  erratic  creature's  presence  or  existence,  and  were 
absorbed  in  low  voiced  conversation. 

"I  could  elect  Ben  Grigscomb  to  congress,"  Black 
Hank  was  saying. 


THE  HAUNTED  WOOD.  209 

' '  What  good  would  that  do  ? "  asked  the  other. 

''We'd  manage  to  help  ourselves,"  retorted  the  rob- 
ber leader,  with  a  peculiar  emphasis.  "I've  had  some 
experience  in  politics, ' '  there  was  a  curious  smile  on  the 
man's  face,  which  made  his  countenance  resemble  that 
of  a  dangerous  and  untamed  animal  showing  its  teeth  in 
a  menacing  snarl. 

"Say,  Hank,  tell  us  something.  No  one  knows  any- 
thing uv  ye,  nohow.  Where  'd  ye  kum  from  ? ' '  the  ques- 
tioner fell  back  in  sudden  and  unfeigned  alarm.  His 
companion  leaned  forward  with  a  sudden  fierce  lunge 
and  seized  a  burning  brand  from  Rachel's  fire.  He 
spasmodically  thrust  this,  blazing,  almost  into  the  other's 
face. 

"When  you  burn,  you'll  know;  not  before."  The 
brand  was  tossed,  without  further  speech,  back  into  the 
flames,  where  the  outlaw  chieftain  watched  it  blaze,  with 
a  heavy,  lowering  scowl  upon  his  dark  and  bitter  face. 

"But,  Hank, " 

The  captain  of  the  outlaws  half  drew  a  revolver.  He 
recollected  himself;  thrust  it  back  into  his  pocket.  He 
nodded  menacingly  and  significantly  at  his  associate; 
and  was  never  questioned  again. 

The  dismayed  and  baffled  companion  of  the  outlaw 
leader,  following  this  singular  outburst  of  disordered 
frenzy,  from  his  chief,,  sat  in  silence,  while  the  other, 
for  the  time  and  lost  to  his  surroundings,  brooded  by  the 
fire.  The  lawless  chieftain  lay  stretched,  at  full  length, 
before  the  flames,  and,  \vith  his  elbows  set  hard  in  the 
ground  and  his  chin  supported  in  his  tensely  drawn 
fingers,  was  gazing  intently  into  the  blaze, — the  firelight 
casting  a  dull,  red  glow  upon  his  dark,  swarthy,  bearded 
features. 

"Where  did  he  Gome  from?"  the  question  might 
never,  again,  in  his  lifetime,  be  brought  home  to  the 


210  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

mysterious  and  noted  outlaw;  "but  where,  indeed,  had 
he  come  from, — and  what  had  driven  him  to  this!" 
filtered  through  his  mind,  as  in  an  unspoken  soliloquy. 
"His  claim  upon  a  government  for  justice,  refused;  he, 
himself,  in  his  righteous  demands,  set  aside,  on  behalf  of 
corrupt  and  dishonest  interests — passed  by  for  base,  un- 
fair political  favoritism;  slighted,  scoffed  at,  jeered, 
scorned  and  treated  with  contempt, — where,  truly,  had 
he  come  from,  and  what  had  driven  him  to  this !  The 
bribery  of  national  power  to  use  its  precious  means  of 
justice  to  an  honest  constituency  for  the  horde  of  lawless 
despoilers  of  government  had  brought  him  to  this,  and 
he  had  come  from  the  land  where  such  things  are 
allowed.  Nor  did  he  now  desire  to  correct  the  system 
(the  poison  had  done  its  work),  by  his  identification  with 
a  man  actively  associated  with  the  affairs  of  the  com- 
munity— Benjamin  Grigscomb, — in  an  effort  to  elect  a 
representative  (!)  of  the  people, — he  merely  wanted 
power — power  to  requite  and  destroy  his  enemies,  that 
was  all.    Where  did  he  come  from  ! ' ' 

The  companion  of  the  musing  and  forlorn  outcast 
hesitatingly  broke  the  silence. 

"Would  Ben  Grigscomb  let  you  run  him  for  con- 
gress?" queried  the  cowed  freebooter  shifting  his  gaze 
from  his  leader's  sinister  and  threatening  visage,  and 
directing  it  across  the  fire  to  the  figure  of  Rachel  Bolers 
still  sitting  in  her  old  position  close  to  the  glowing,  flick- 
ering coals. 

"I'll  manage  that,"  returned  Black  Hank.  He  was 
silent  a  moment.  Then,  as  if  he  had  finally  dismissed 
the  memory  of  their  late  dissension,  he  proceeded, 
"Grigscomb,  I  tell  you,  's  out  fur  anything.  Billy 
White,  maybe,  '11  go  agin'  him,  but  that  ain't  a-goin'  to 
make  no  difference.  Tho '  White 's  honest.  Honest ! "  re- 
peated the  man ;  "  we  all  were,  once. ' ' 


THE  HAUNTED  WOOD.  211 

"I'm  with  you,  Hank,  o'  course,  ef  they's  anything 
in  it." 

"You  leave  that  to  me,"  said  the  other. 

Somewhere  in  the  wood,  the  scream  of  a  wildcat 
sounded  thrice.  If  a  signal,  it  was  obeyed  by  the  two 
outlaws;  Rachel  Bolers  continuing,  to  all  appearances, 
unconscious  of  her  surroundings. 

"Come,"  commanded  the  leader,  rising  quickly  to 
his  feet  from  his  seat  among  the  mosses  and  grasses  of 
their  forest  rendezvous,  "we  must  be  liavin'  a  bite  an' 
git  away." 

With  some  general  instructions  to  Rachel,  which  she 
seemed  to  comprehend  with  a  degree  of  intelligence,  and 
hastily  swallowing  their  food,  the  outlaws  vanished  in 
the  surrounding  forest. 

The  darkness  had  thickened  in  the  glen.  The  great 
trees,  about,  locked  ghostly  and  grim  in  the  vague  shad- 
ows. Dim  outlines  of  rocks,  here  and  there,  stood  out, 
and  the  faint  trickle  of  a  running  brook  was  heard,  not 
far  otf . 

The  bushes  that  had  before  moved  stirred  again. 
They  parted,  and  the  stealthy  form  of  a  man  emerged 
noiselessly  into  view. 

"Now's  the  time,  if  she's  only  got  her  wits  about 
her,"  muttered  he. 

He  came  forward  to  where  Rachel  sat.  He  touched 
her  softly  on  the  arm. 

"Who  be  ye?"  she  asked.  "Be  ye  the  spirit  uv 
justice  ? ' ' 

"Ye  might  ha'  said  worse,"  rejoined  the  other.  "I 
ain't  sure,  party,  but  what  I  may  prove  that,  afore  I'm 
over  this  'ere  present  cruise." 

"What  ye  want?"  said  Rachel. 

"Lots  o'  things — just  lots  o'  things,"  replied  the 
man,  though  in  a  subdued  tone  of  prudent  caution.     He 


212  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

glanced  about,  as  though  to  assure  himself  of  safety  in 
proceeding  further.  "D'yo  think,"  he  went  on  coaxing- 
ly>  "yo'  could  f oiler  me  intellijuntly,  missis?"  The 
secret  visitor  to  this  spot  appeared  to  be  conversant  with 
Rachel  Bolers'  affliction. 

"What  ye  want?"  repeated  Rachel,  staring  fixedly 
in  the  face  of  her  questioner.  "I  ain't  got  no  mind," 
she  said  plaintively. 

"I  know  ye  ain't — leastways,"  supplemented  the 
other,  coughing  apologetically,  "yer  topgallant  's  a  tritie 
sprung,  ye  know,  sometimes.  Think  ye  could  answer  me 
a  few  questions,  now,"  coaxed  the  speaker  conciliatingly. 

Rachel  passed  her  hand  over  her  eyes,  and  appeared 
to  struggle  with  the  meaning  of  her  questioner's  speech. 
"I'll  try,"  she  said. 

"Good,"  said  the  man.  "Tell  me  about  Brad — 
Brad  Simons,  there's  an  ol'  dear." 

"I'll  be  his  jedgment,"  flashed  the  woman. 

"Yes,  I  know  ye  will,"  quickly  acquiesced  her  ex- 
aminer, fearful  lest  excitement  should  cause  his  subject 
to  lose  the  sane  thread  of  her  thoughts.  "An'  quite 
right,  my  dear  old  lady,  'at  ye  should  keel  haul  'im  and 
make  'im  walk  the  plank.  But  what  about  him  and 
Billy  White, — an ' — an ', ' '  her  visitor  added,  in  a  tone  of 
reverence,  "about  Miss  De  Braddock?"  He  thought- 
fully placed  his  hand  upon  his  chin  covered  with  a  short, 
dark  beard,  revealing,  on  the  hand's  back,  tattoo  marks 
of  an  anchor  and  ship,  and  glanced  shrewdly  at  Rachel 
Bolers  out  of  a  pair  of  restless,  twinkling  eyes,  and 
breathed  the  far  off  sea  from  every  pore. 

Struggling  with  her  jangled  faculties,  Rachel  mys- 
teriously whispered, 

"Ye  know  his  housekeeper?" 

"Whose  housekeeper,  missis?"  asked  the  sailor. 

"Brad's." 


THE  HAUNTED  WOOD.  213 

"Well,  now,"  observed  the  seafaring  character, 
scratching  his  head,  and  not  disposed  to  display  too 
much  ignorance,  "I  might  even  know  that  'ere  sailin' 
wessel,  ef  ye '11  describe  it  like." 

The  effort  at  continued  rationality  was  apparently 
beginning  to  prove  too  much  for  the  disposition  or  the 
power  of  mind  of  the  sailor's  informant.  "See  her," 
she  once  more  whispered. 

"The  housekeeper?"  queried  her  companion. 

Eachel  Bolers  nodded. 

"Shall  I  tell  her,  now,  for  instance,  as  any  one  sent 
me  ? "  asked  her  visitor,  in  a  cozy,  comfortable  tone. 

"Ye  kin  tell  'er,  'at  I  kin  stop  Brad  Simons  from 
marryin'  De  Braddock,  ef  they  don't  stop  my  breath- 
in',"  Rachel  glanced  fearfully  around,  "afore  I  do  it." 

' '  What 's  ailin '  yo '  now  ? ' '  said  the  man. 

"Fate,"  said  the  woman. 

' '  That 's  a  name,  mebbe,  missis,  fur  them,  'at  keeps  ye 
here  spliced  to  'em  ag'in'  yer  will,  now?"  rejoined 
Rachel  Bolers'  visitor  coaxingly,  apparently  bent  on 
obtaining  all  the  information  possible  concerning  those 
connected  with  the  woman 's  following.  The  man,  with  a 
characteristic  gesture,  pushed  his  hat  back  from  his  fore- 
head and  displayed  a  deep  scar.  William  White's 
tramp,  acquitted  of  suspicion  in  the  death  of  Zeke 
Smithin,  was  at  work. 

"I  ain't  alius  dizzy  in  the  head,"  vaguely  exclaimed 
the  distracted  creature,  " 'n'  I  could  tell  yo'  things, 
sometimes.    Yes,  I  could. ' ' 

"Now,  there,  I  b'lieve  ye  could,  so  I  do,"  her  com- 
panion admitted  humoringly. 

"Yes,  I  could.  But  fate,"  said  the  woman  gro- 
tesquely and  mysteriously  mowing  at  her  guest, — "fate 
hinders  me.  Did  ye  know  I  wuz  fate?"  she  queried, 
peering  up  into  the  other's  face. 


214  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"Well,  no;  not  exactly.  Leastways,"  said  the  man, 
not  knowing  how  far  he  might  offend  his  singular  ac- 
quaintance,— "leastways,  I  waizn't  a-knowdn'  uv  it 
afore. ' ' 

"  Well,  I  am,  fur  I  don 't  know  what  I  be  about. 
Ain  't  that  fate  ? ' ' 

The  other  was  obliged  to  admit  that  it  bore  a  strong 
family  likeness  to  it. 

"Yes,  an' — "  but  she  was,  once  more,  vacant  eyed. 

"Kin  ye  tell  me  where  the  cave  is?"  asked  her  com- 
panion. 

Here,  the  strange  and  singular  woman  gave  evidence 
of  a  keen  if  not  sensible  realization  of  her  position,  and 
the  emissary  of  White  found  himself  unable  to  obtain 
anything  further  from  her.  However,  he  had  his  cue — 
Brad  Simons'  housekeeper;  and  satisfying  himself  that 
nothing  more  was  to  be  gained  by  risking  the  return  of 
the  outlaws,  the  sailor  tramp  slipped  away  in  the  bushes, 
leaving  Rachel  Bolers,  lapsed  into  apparent  oblivion  of 
all  about  her,  huddled  up  over  the  fire. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


THE   PICNIC. — JOHN   BRADDOCK 
UNDER  SUSPICION. 

Ann  Mariali  Saunders  and  De  Braddock  planned  a 
picnic,  to  which  a  number  of  congenial  guests  were  to 
be  invited;  a  neighboring  grove  of  luxuriant  beech  and 
oak  selected  for  the  frolic  in  question  supplying  a  place 
of  sylvan  beauty  and  retreat  from  the  distracting  world. 
Mother  Braddock  was  going.  Uncle  Peter  declared  he 
would  go,  "ef  thet  'air  young  cub  Billy  White  'u'd  stay 
away."  It  was  the  gastronomic  opportunity  of  Esau, 
the  Braddock  farmboy,  who,  big,  fat  and  good  natured, 
gloated  over  the  prospect  of  dinner  baskets  bursting  with 
the  abundant  resources  of  the  rich  farm  region,  visions 
of  Avhich  generous  provender  filled  the  cavernous  spaces 
of  his  appetite  to  the  delay  of  many  tasks  of  daily  farm 
work,  in  the  meantime.  Parson  Woods  was  to  be  there, 
and  Job  Saunders,  Ann  Mariah's  shiftless  brother,  with 
many  injunctions  on  the  part  of  his  prim,  tidy  sister, 
had  been  granted  permission  to  attend.  De  was  in  her 
element  and  Mother  Braddock  put  to  her  best.  Indeed, 
great  preparations  were  to  be  made,  and  Esau  could 
scarcely  wait  till  the  day  of  banqueting  came  about. 
Despite  the  discontent  of  the  old  farmer  with  the  neces- 
sity of  wearing  "store  clothes,"  De  had  been  advised  of 
her  father's  intention  of  going  to  the  picnic;  and,  hence, 
in  view  of  the  old  man's  obdurate  objection  to  William 
Wliite,  the  unhappy  and  much  abused  young  writer  pre- 
sented a  problem  as  to  the  introduction  of  the  unfortu- 

215 


216  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

nate  literary  genius  into  the  picnickers'  midst  that 
offered  many  difficulties  of  solution.  It  finally  trans- 
pired that  Uncle  Peter  was  unexpectedly  called  away  to 
a  neighbor's  farm,  and  White  went  to  the  picnic,  in  cou- 
rageous defiance  of  the  possibility  of  Peter's  later  arrival 
on  the  ground  of  recreation  and  pleasure. 

In  discussing  the  selection  of  the  guests,  William 
White  had  begged  that  Mrs.  Walmsey,  the  engaging 
widow  with  w^hom  he  made  his  home,  be  asked. 

"You  seem  very  much  interested  in  Mrs.  Walmsey," 
De  found  occasion  to  remark,  with  something  that  might, 
mthout  violence  to  the  truth,  have  been  construed  to 
mean  a  snap  of  displeasure. 

"She  has,  in  many  ways,"  replied  the  grateful  and 
unconscious  male  gender,  "been  kind  to  me." 

"Maybe  you  think  more  of  Widow  Walmsey  than 
you  do  of  anyone  else,"  retorted  De,  flashing  up  into 
her  companion's  face  a  quick  look  of  jealousy. 

White  didn  't  think  he  did. 

And  Widow  Walmsey  was  included  among  those  to 
be  invited  to  the  rustic  frolic. 

Mona  Walker  went  to  the  picnic,  but  Brad  Simons 
did  not, — at  least,  the  scheming  cattleman  was  not 
favored  with  an  invitation.  It  was  sufficient  for  De  to 
remember  JMr.  Simons'  conduct  in  the  gardens  of  Ann 
Mariali  Saunders,  to  blacklist  Brad  effectually.  Al- 
though JNIona  was  talked  about  as  Simons'  probable 
future  mfe,  nothing  was  generally  known  of  the  written 
and  signed  agreement  of  marriage  between  them,  which 

had  been  stolen  by  the  outlaws  from  the  T bank. 

Mona  was  of  a  reserved  nature,  and  her  matrimonial 
affairs  with  Brad  were  not  of  conclusive  knowledge  in 
the  community.  In  spite  of  her  unusual  though  in 
every  way  innocent  attitude  to  society  and  the  conven- 
tional community  in  the  matter  of  her  relations  to  Brad 


JOHN  UNDER  SUSPICION.  217 

Simons'  domestic  establishment,  she  was  liked  and 
understood  by  all  who  knew  her.  She  was  a  great  favor- 
ite with  Mother  Braddock,  and  it  has  been  seen  that  De 
esteemed  her  highly.  It  is  not  certain  how  far  Parson 
Woods  might,  at  this  time,  have  been  received  into  her 
final  maiden  choice,  had  her  marriage  understanding 
with  the  cattle  trader  been  out  of  the  way;  and  Woods, 
on  his  part,  showed  a  marked  disposition  in  the  girl's 
favor. 

At  the  Braddock  farm,  all  was  bustle  and  prepara- 
tion. Mrs.  Braddock  was  to  add  to  the  tasty  stores  of 
Ann  Mariah's  provision  such  baskets  of  good  things, 
and  bottles  of  elderberry  wine,  and  cans  of  milk  and  jugs 
of  cider  for  those  devoted  to  less  exhilarating  beverages, 
and  feastings  of  preserves,  with  rich  and  savory  chickens 
boiled  whole  and  fried,  too,  and  such  thousands  of  odible 
and  drinkable  etceteras,  that  the  farmboy,  shaking  in  his 
plentitude  of  flesh,  all  but  swooned  in  the  delights  of 
anticipation. 

De  was  up  with  the  chickens.  Think  of  it,  0  city 
folks !  You  who  retire  at  such  an  hour — your  heads 
swim  at  thoughts  of  a  spell  of  swift  flying  pleasures 
launched  at  break  o'  day.  Can  we  realize,  now,  that, 
then,  good  people,  even  on  farms,  lay  themselves  down 
to  sleep  at  the  same  hour  as  the  fowls  they  rose  with? 
And  dear  De  was  everywhere;  helping  her  mother;  jog- 
ging good  natured,  sluggish  Esau;  tying  Uncle  Peter's 
cravat,  when  that  patriarch  came  stumping  into  the 
kitchen,  mildly,  and  none  too  mildly,  either,  anathema- 
tizing the  "store  clothes,"  aforesaid,  and  making  herself 
the  bright,  flashing  star  of  genius  to  warm,  irradiate  and 
assemble  into  sparkling  harmony  the  general  mass  of 
things.    Bless  her  heart ! 

And  let  me  tell  you,  when  it  came  to  dressing  for  the 
parts  to  be  played  at  this  picnic,  the  interesting  Widow 


218  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

Walmsey  struck  the  keynote  of  holiday  robes,  and  had 
arrayed  herself  in  gay  and  dazzling  splendor.  The  corn- 
yellow  silk  gown,  with  figurings  of  Indian  red,  the  bril- 
liant and  successful  mainstay  of  the  widow's  valued  but 
limited  wardrobe,  had  been  employed  by  her,  to-day, 
with  what  proved  a  deep  and  bewildering  design,  and 
greatly  -enhanced  her  undoubted  charms  and  graces. 
Little  half-mitts  of  black  silk  enclosed  her  small,  shapely 
hands,  while  her  brown  hair  was  drawn  demurely  and 
plainly  over  her  pretty  ears.  A  wonderful  creation  in 
purple  adorned  her  head.  And,  lo!  Job  Saunders  was 
the  object  of  these  gauds  and  allurements  of  female  arts 
cherished  by  the  sprightly  and  engaging  angler,  with 
tenacious  and  unyielding  affection  and  purpose,  from 
olden  days  of  past  and  triumphant  glories.  To  Saun- 
ders, when  his  fascinated  gaze  first  rested  upon  this 
vision  of  inconceivable  loveliness  and  beauty,  in  his 
deeply  stirred  sense  of  divine  perfection  there  came 
something  akin  to  the  faint,  faroff  music  of  the  spheres. 
The  singular  and  hidden  attachment  of  his  rural  and 
determined  admirer  gave  early  promise  of  breaking 
from  its  long  and  heretofore  unnoticed  and  smouldering 
state  into  a  flame  of  mutual  strength  and  satisfactori- 
ness. 

Widow  Walmsey  and  Job  Saunders  certainly,  that 
day,  were  a  surprise  to  all  who  knew  them.  Why  the 
^^^dow  had  chosen  a  monument  of  idleness  and  poverty 
it  would  be  hard  to  tell.     0  love, — oh,  eternal  mystery ! 

The  old  male  bird  of  the  house  of  Saunders  had,  in  a 
roving  spirit,  abandoned  the  straws  and  sticks  of  his 
nest,  at  a  period  remote  from  the  beginning  of  our  nar- 
rative, and  left  his  young,  in  the  vernacular  of  the  pres- 
ent day,  to  "hustle"  for  themselves.  Ann  Mariah  had 
no  recollection  of  the  maternal  care;  and  Job  and  she 
had  lived  upon,  developed  and  made  as  much  of  the 


JOHN  UNDER  SUSPICION.  219 

frugal  plot  of  ground  belonging  to  the  elder  Saunders 
as  possible ;  although,  as  her  brother  Job  would  not 
help,  to  any  appreciable  or  observable  extent,  Ann  soon 
found  it  necessary  to  employ  a  male  hand,  on  whom 
she  could  depend  for  a  certain  amount  of  steady  work; 
but  beyond  this  she  contrived,  unaided,  as  the  bright 
redeeming  blossom  in  this  garden  of  Saunders'  weeds,  to 
keep  "a-going." 

There  was  a  mythical  legend  humorously  current 
among  the  neighbors,  in  which  the  senior  ]\[r.  Saun- 
ders' descendants  were  wont  to  seriously  believe,  that, 
some  day,  the  elder  Saunders  was  coming  back  to  Indi- 
ana and  its  population,  rich,  honored  and  full  of  repent- 
ance. 

As  Job  rode  into  the  grove  where  the  merrymaking 
was  to  be,  his  own  appearance  was  worthy  of  note.  He 
wore  a  long,  blue,  swallow  tail  coat  which,  with  its  brass 
buttons  had  at  some  previous  time  supplied  full  dress 
for  the  senior  member  of  his  house.  His  lower  limbs 
w^ere  clad  in  light  gray  trousers.  His  head  supported  a 
large,  full  brim,  very  old.  once  white,  plush,  bell  crown 
high  hat.  This  latter  article  of  headgear,  likewise  de- 
scending from  the  elder  and  recreant  head  of  the  Saun- 
ders' household  to  his  son,  had,  for  years,  so  afflicted 
Job's  suffering  soul  that  many  anxious  devices  had  been 
employed  by  him  to  get  rid  of,  destroy  or  lose  it,  and 
force  conclusions  to  the  procurement  of  a  newer  and 
more  modern  headpiece.  One  of  the  artifices  resorted 
to  by  the  wretched  sufferer  for  the  elimination  of  the 
white  bell  crown  from  his  life  had  been  to  place  the 
article  in  the  path  of  a  falling  tree,  felled  for  the  pur- 
pose of  crushing  the  objectionable  piece  of  headgear, 
but,  like  the  fabled  eat  of  nursery  days  that  had  nine 
lives,  the  hat  had  survived,  and  returned,  to  mix  figures 
a  little,  like  Banquo's  ghost,  ''to  plague  the  inventor." 


220  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

The  bell  crown  still  clung  to  Job  like  a  fragrant  spice 
of  long  ago. 

When  all  had  finally  arrived  at  the  spot  pitched  upon 
for  the  woodland  holiday,  each  fell  to  the  allotted  por- 
tion of  his  or  her  duties. 

William  White,  in  a  state  of  watchfulness  regard- 
ing the  expected  arrival,  at  a  later  hour,  of  Uncle  Peter, 
when  the  condemned  writer  should  seek  seclusion  in  the 
neighboring  grove,  tarried  in  the  glade  under  favor  of 
Mrs.  Braddock,  as  well  as  under  that  of  Mrs.  Braddock's 
highly  favored  daughter. 

Martha  Braddock  was  guiding  and  directing  her 
feminine  forces  something  after  the  manner  of  an  old 
blue  hen  with  a  small  but  extremely  valued  brood  of 
chickens,  and  De,  recognized  as  next  in  importance,  was 
instructing  Ann  Mariah  Saunders,  as  occasion  offered, 
just  how^  to  most  effectively  match  their  joint  palatial 
spread  of  good  cheer  for  the  coming  feast.  Where  the 
women  were  had  been  selected  the  greenest  and  soft- 
est mosses,  the  smoothest  sward  and  the  most  seductive 
shade. 

"Esau,"  called  Mrs.  Braddock,  "come  here." 
Esau  came  as  bidden. 

"I  do  b'lieve,  that — no,  here  it  is — thought  I'd  left 
the  mustard,  an'  pepper  sass  behin',"  said  Mother  Brad- 
dock, much  relieved.  "Esau,  help  De  and  Ann  Mariah, 
there." 

"Now,  Esau,  you  just  go  'long, — you  men  keep 
away,"  and  De,  at  the  same  time,  glanced  certainly 
archly  and  hastily  from  beneath  her  lowered  eyelids  to 
see  that  William  White,  in  a  most  becoming  and  fitting 
outing  cap,  white  duck  trousers  and  characteristic 
loose,  blue,  sack  coat,  had  not  been  closer  than  necessary, 
and  overheard,  in  too  literal  a  sense,  a  speech  fraught 
with  what  might  prove  such  undesirable  and  discourag- 


JOHiN  UNDER  SUSPICION.  221 

ing  results.  And  De's  lovely  and  attractive  face  and 
bright  eyes  looked  out  from  beneath  the  most  captivat- 
ing of  cream  colored  leghorn  hats,  the  broad,  ravishing 
brim  of  which  essential  piece  of  feminine  attire  scarce- 
ly concealed  the  little  curls  that  clustered  around  her 
brow,  quite  driving  William  White  distracted.  Around 
the  waist  of  a  dainty  white  frock  she  wore  an  effective 
sash  of  broad,  cherry  hued  ribbon,  while  her  feet,  en- 
cased in  delicate  wear  and  peeping  prettily  from  under 
the  edge  of  the  shortened  gown,  showed  wdth  further 
twinkling  seductiveness  to  hopelessly  complete  the  con- 
quest of  poor,  mere  man. 

Bob  Likkum,  in  an  amazing  red  waistcoat  and  dark 
flowing  tie,  together  with  a  coat  and  nether  garment  of 
linen  buff,  and  a  wide,  country  straw  hat  set  smartly 
on  one  side  of  his  head,  was  hovering  interestingly  near 
Ann  Mariah,  in  her  own  dainty  pearl  gray  apparel,  that 
damsel  being  busy  extracting  a  fly  from  a  jar  of  pre- 
serves which  she  had  just  opened.  Miss  Ann's  swain 
stoutly  maintained  his  ground,  nor  yielded  to  further 
spoken  or  unspoken  behests,  on  the  part  of  either  Ann 
Mariah  or  De,  to  depart. 

"Parson—" 

"William—" 

Simultaneously,  called  Martha  Braddock  and  De. 

The  two  thus  addressed  came  to  attention,  while 
Ann  Mariah,  Mrs.  Braddock,  De  and  Bob  Likkum  ceased 
their  various  occupations,  and,  in  the  attitudes  in  which 
they  found  themselves,  when  the  sound  of  a  distant  shot 
reached  the  glade,  were  listening  and  gazing  in  its  direc- 
tion. 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Ann  Mariah;  "they'll  shoot  this 
way. ' ' 

"Wliat's  that  shooting,  parson?"  called  Mother 
Braddock. 


222  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"William,  what  is  it?"  cried  De, — "some  one  gun- 
ning?" 

"Kalk'late,"  put  in  Bob  Likkum  drily, — "seems 
kind  o'  likely." 

"Hello!"  shouted  White;  "don't  shoot  this  way." 

"It's  all  right,"  remarked  the  parson;  "won't  do 
any  harm,  I  judge." 

"Hope  not,"  was  Mrs.  Braddock's  comment,  as  the 
women  returned  to  their  occupations. 

But  White  continued  to  call  until  he  secured  a  faint 
answering  shout,  in  the  distance. 

"Parson  Woods,"  said  William  White,  while  Job 
and  the  fat  farmboy  continued  to  feast  their  eyes  in 
silence — the  farmboy  his  upon  the  goodly  stores  of  rare 
and  enticing  eatables  that  were  now  rapidly  assuming 
shape  upon  a  snowy  cloth  spread  upon  the  mossy 
ground,  and  the  sentimental  and  stricken  Job  his  own 
upon  the  fair  presence  of  the  alluring  Widow  Walmsey, 
—"parson,"  said  White,  "I  heard  West  Flank  say  that 
there  was  some  doubt  of  the  guilt  of  that  man  the  lynch- 
ers were  going  to  string  up  the  other  day.  Did  you  hear, 
when  you  rode  to  meeting,  yesterday?  1  saw  to  it  that 
he  had  a  lawyer,  but  that  mortgage  on  my  place — fore- 
closure, you  know — kept  me  from  attending  his  prelimi- 
nary examination  before  the  justice  of  the  peace." 
White  did  not  speak  further  of  his  special  interest  in  the 
suspected  tramp,  and  Parson  Woods  did  not  question 
him,  as  White's  humanitarianism  and  special  acts  of 
kindness  were  proverbial  and  constant,  anyway. 

"Why,  yes,"  said  the  parson,— "seems  as  if  they 
couldn't  make  a  case  against  him.  It  appears  that  he 
had  picked  up  the  gun  belonging  to  Zeke,  and  which  was 
found  in  the  prisoner's  possession,  out  of  the  ditch,  after 
the  body  of  Zeke  Smitliin  had  been  carried  away;  and 
Zeke's  hat,  which  it  was  charged  the  accused  man  had 


JOHN  UNDER  SUSPICION.  223 

appropriated,  was,  afterwards,  discovered  covered  with 
blood,  close  at  hand,  near  where  the  body  of  Zeke  had 
lain.  Someone,  not  with  the  mob  the  day  of  the  attempt- 
ed lynching,  saw  the  man  pick  up  the  gun  after  the  body 
had  been  removed,  and,  in  the  matter  of  the  hat,  the 
suspected  man's  own  hat  resembled  Zeke's.  This 
thing,"  concluded  Parson  Woods,  "of  circumstantial 
evidence  and  mistaken  identities  is  a  very  serious  matter, 
it  seems  to  me." 

"It  certainly  is,"  responded  White. 
"There  is  a  rumor  or  suspicion,"  added  Woods  in  a 
low  tone,   "connecting  John   Braddock,   in  some   way, 
with  the  Smithin  affair." 

"What  do  you  mean?"   exclaimed   White   quickly. 

The  parson  pointed  a  finger  admonishingly  in  the 

direction  of  Mother  Braddock  and  De.    "It  is  beginning 

to  be  wondered  where  John  got  the  money  to  pay  his 

note  to  Brad  Simons,"  said  Woods. 

"Is  there  anything,"  rejoined  Wliite,  "strange 
about  a  business  man  getting  a  little  money  together 
and  paying  off  an  obligation?" 

"No,"  answered  Parson  Woods;  "but  there  has 
arisen  somehow  an  unaccountable  and,  I  think,  most  un- 
worthy suspicion  affecting  the  taking  of  the  sum  Zeke 
was  robbed  of  when  killed." 

"My  God!"  ejaculated  White;  "they  don't  sus- 
pect—" 

"That  John  Braddock,  who  threatened,  on  account 
of  his  ^^^fe  Nance,  to  kill  Zeke,  murdered  Zeke  Smithin 
for  revenge,  and  afterwards  took  the  money?  that  is 
what  this  most  extraordinary  rumor  in  to\\'ii  means," 
gravely  replied  the  parson.  "I  know  John — man  and 
boy — better  than  you  do,  William,"  said  the  minister, 
continuing  with  great  emphasis,  as  he  perceived  William 


224  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

White  about  to  speak, — "he  could  not  any  more  have 
done  it,  than  I  could." 

"Parson,"  said  White  with  feeling,  impulsively 
seizing  the  oher  's  hand,  ' '  you  're  true  blue ! ' ' 

' '  What  you  shakin '  hands  fur, ' '  cried  Job  Saunders ; 
going  away,  parson, — goin'  ter  stay  with  the  picnic  to 
dinner,  ben't  you?"  The  dinner  was  almost  ready, 
arrival  upon  the  ground  having  occurred,  through  one 
delay  and  another,  at  nearly  the  hour  of  noon. 

White  saw  some  answer  had  to  be  made,  and,  refus- 
ing to  trust  to  the  preacher's  invincible  powers  of  truth, 
spoke  up  hastily,  "I  was  just  showing  him  how  the  city 
bunco  operator  works  the  gentlemen  who  visit  him  from 
your  section  of  the  country,  Job,"  at  which  good 
natured  and  apt  reply  a  general  laugh  followed. 

"Hush!"  cautioned  Woods,  as  Mother  Braddock 
passed  near  them. 

"But  who  could  have  possibly  inspired  such  a  thing 
about  John?"  queried  White  of  the  preacher. 

"William,  I  am  at  a  loss  to  think,"  rejoined  the 
simple  minded  minister,  who  could  not  bring  himself  to 
voice  the  apprehension  that  had  arisen  in  his  own  soul 
in  regard  to  Brad  Simons'  probable  part  in  the  circula- 
tion of  such  a  charge  against  the  brother  of  De.  It  was 
hard,  too,  for  the  single  minded  man  of  God  to  compre- 
hend how  Simons  might  hope,  in  any  way,  to  advantage 
himself  with  De  Braddock  or  another,  by  such  a  course. 
And,  in  truth,  Simons  himself  had  hesitated  long,  and 
had  only  yielded  to  the  cunning  utterance,  in  town,  of 
his  own  suspicious  surmises  concerning  John  Braddock 
in  the  Smithin  tragedy  when,  smarting  under  De's  late 
punishment,  he  had  sought  some  way  of  vengeance  on 
the  Braddock  house.  It  was  not  until  later  that  Brad 
Simons  found  means  in  the  Smithin  affair  to  cause  John 
Braddock 's  sister  to  yield  to  his  suit. 


JOHN  UNDER  SUSPICION.  225 

0  shadows,— 0  phantoms  of  injustice,— 0  greed  and 
sorrow,  do  you  hover  close  to  this  I 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


SMOKY  BILLINGS. — THE  ARREST  OF  JOHN  BRADDOCK. 

The  acquittal  of  the  man  whom  the  lynchers  had 
attempted  to  hang  was  attended  with  little  of  interest, 
other  than  that  v.hich  has  been  expressed  in  the  state- 
ment of  Parson  Woods  to  William  White.  Only  in 
respect  of  one  circumstance  attending  the  hearing  on  his 
case  did  matter  of  sufficient  importance  transpire  in  the 
further  concerns  of  the  trial  of  the  lynchers'  intended 
victim  to  warrant  additional  allusion  to  his  appearance 
before  the  local  justice  of  the  peace.  The  incident  re- 
ferred to  the  man's  name. 

Upon  arraignment  of  the  prisoner,  the  question  was 
asked : 

"What  is  your  name?" 

It,  thereupon,  transpired  that  the  prisoner,  accus- 
tomed to  the  airy  neighborhood  of  haystacks  and  road- 
side lodgings,  had  contracted  a  heavy  cold  which,  affect- 
ing his  tonsils,  had  caused  an  inflamed  and  swollen  con- 
dition to  result,  rendering  speech,  on  the  part  of  the 
subject,  of  considerable  difficulty.  Attempting  to  ex- 
plain this  inability  of  utterance  preventing  capable  an- 
swers, on  his  part,  in  the  examination,  the  prisoner  at 
the  bar  replied  or  attempted  to  reply  to  the  query  affect- 
ing his  name : 

"Choky  swellings,"  meaning,  v.-ith  certain  expressive 
gestures  of  his  hands  in  the  region  of  his  throat,  that  his 
organs  of  speech  were  temporarily  disabled  for  satisfac- 
tory response,  by  reason  of  his  affliction. 

226 


JOHN  BRADDOCK'S  ARREST.  227 

The  answer,  such  as  it  was,  came  to  the  apprehension 
of  the  magistrate  in  stifled  and  wholly  unintelligible  ac- 
cents, and,  placing  his  own  construction  upon  the  reply, 
the  court  had  instructed  the  clerk  to  write  the  prisoner 
down  as  "Smoky  Billings." 

So  the  man  was  christened ;  and,  for  many  years 
after,  this  character  was  known  and  respected  in  the 
community  by  the  title  recorded  in  the  office  of  the  Jus- 
tice of  the  Peace,  at  the  town  of  T . 

That  hour,  of  all  hours  the  dearest  and  most  precious 
to  the  heart  and  soul  of  ye  true  picnicker!  had,  at  last, 
arrived,  and  Mrs.  Braddock  announced  all  was  in  readi- 
ness for  a  general  congregation  around  the  hospitable 
board,  or  snowy-white-covered  mossy-ground  substitute 
for  that  delightful  medium  of  entertainment. 

The  newly  awakened  billings — not  Smoky  Billings 
— and  cooings  of  Job  Saunders, — who  had,  at  all  events, 
not  been  deprived  of  good  looks, — and  the  gracious 
widow,  placed  in  the  unwitting  geneml  arrangements 
side  by  side  at  the  picnic  spread,  were  unmistakable. 
Bob  Likkum,  Ann  Mariah  and  the  bright  glances  di- 
rected from  the  eyes  of  De,  as  revivers  of  any  flagging 
zeal  that  might  seize  upon  the  heart  of  William  White, 
added  zest  to  the  occasion.  Mona  Walker,  Esau 's  former 
teacher,  took  refuge  with  the  fat  boy,  while  ]\Irs.  Brad- 
dock  and  Parson  Woods  were  well  content,  though  some- 
what scandalized  by  the  widow  and  Job,  to  sit  at  their 
respective  sage  and  sober  points  at  the  feast  and  see 
enacted  the  story  that  we  are  never  tired  of  hearing  or  of 
telling,  and  never  will  tire  of  hearing  or  of  telling,  to 
the  end  of  time. 

"Here's  a  wishbone,  Ann  Mariar,"  expostulated  Bob 
Likum,  upon  Ann's  sudden  withdrawal  from  the  detain- 
ing grasp  of  the  overpowered  Robert  of  her  own  delicate 
fingers  which  had  been  snatched,  by  the  ardent  wooer,  in 


228  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

the  too  evident  presence  of  the  full  company,  "an'  I'll 
wish  with  ye,  an'  we'll  see  ef  I  don't  git  my  wish,"  this 
assurance  of  future  realization,  by  a  peculiar  mental 
process  not  here  explained,  appearing  to  afford  the  re- 
buked lover  a  satisfactory  justification  of  his  recent 
descent  upon  the  tempting  hand  of  Ann  Mariah.  Bob's 
remarks  were  duly  attended  by  a  presentation,  in  form, 
of  the  wishbone,  and  the  pulling  apart  of  the  same  by 
him  and  Ann  at  once  followed. 

So,  De  finding  a  wishbone  in  the  wealth  of  chicken 
skeletons,  there  were  two  wishbone  pullings  instead  of 
one,  the  second  pulling  including  one  William  White, 
the  significance  of  which  proceedings  being  those  subtle 
steps  leading  to  the  inevitable  by  and  by  in  store  for 
man  and  maid 

"De,  get  another  pie, — this  boy,"  Mother  Braddock 
having  reference  to  the  now  bloated  Esau,  "has  de- 
voured hull,  I  think,  about  three,  and  four  chickens — " 

"Nothin'  the  kind.  Miss  De,"  wheezed  Esau, — 
"don't  you  b'lieve  'er, — I  ain't  had  nothin',  't  all," 
which,  to  an  unbiased  observer,  partook  in  statement 
from  Esau  not  only  of  the  most  undeniable  character  of 
falsehood,  but,  had  it  been  true  that  the  results  of  Esau 's 
banquet  could  have  been  considered  ' '  nothing, ' '  it  would 
have  made  of  "something"  a  quantity  to  baffle  the  com- 
putation of  the  distinguished  and  immortal  author  of 
calculus. 

"Bob,"  whispered  White,  with  sly  expression,  lean- 
ing over  to  Likkum,  ' '  the  widow  will  have  plenty  of  idle 
time  on  her  hands,  when  she  gets  Job ! ' ' 

"A  clock  that  don't  go  is  always  right,  twice  a  day," 
oracularly  responded  Bob. 

"Parson  Woods,"  said  Mrs.  Braddock,  "you'll 
drink  some  o'  this  here  elderberry  wine,  I'm  sure?" 

As  the  parson  took  from  the  outstretched  hand  of 


JOHN  BRADDOCK'S  ARREST.      229 

Mother  Braddock  the  bottle  of  wine,  which  species  of 
gentle  intoxicant  constituted  the  good  pastor's  only- 
form  of  dissipation,  there  broke  upon  the  air  the  sound 
of  a  song  crooned  at  a  point,  nearby,  in  the  wood  be- 
tween the  revelers  and  the  river  not  far  distant, 

Bonny,  my  child, 

Bonny  and  wee, 
Eyes  bhie  and  mild, 

That  only  can  see 
Mother  above,  bending  and  low, 

Over  thy  cradle. 
Rocking'  thee  so." 

The  words  ceased  with  a  long,  sad,  wailing  note — the 
cry  of  the  bereaved. 

"Rachel — Rachel  Bolers,"  said  someone  in  a  hushed 
voice. 

At  this  instant,  Brad  Simons,  carrying  a  gun  and 
followed  by  a  hunting  dog,  came  from  behind  the  trees, 
where  he  had  been  standing  for  some  time  an  unseen 
observer,  and  advanced  into  the  clearing  where  the  mer- 
rymakers were  assembled.  He  approached  and  bowed 
with  no  apparent  restraint  in  his  manner  and  with  a 
certain  appearance  of  ostentatious  friendliness  not  easy, 
at  first,  to  understand,  but  which,  presently,  much  to 
De's  confusion,  was  partially  justified. 

A  glance  from  De's  eye,  conveying  a  sense  of  his 
ha"vung  come  an  uninvited  guest,  caused  the  grazier  to 
say  quickly, 

"I  am  sure  all  present  here  will  pardon  me,  but,  as 
you  have  done  my  poor  land  the  honor  to  hold  your 
picnic  on  it, " 

It  was,  alas!  for  De,  the  truth.  From  time  imme- 
morial, had  this  grove  been  used  for  camp  meetings, 
picnics,  political  barbecues  and  what  not?  and  so  mat- 


230  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

ter-of -course  a  thing  had  it  become  to  use  it,  that  a  sense 
of  public  property  in  the  grove  had  grown  up  in  the 
minds  of  the  country  people. 

Brad  had  been  informed,  by  one  of  his  drovers,  of 
the  intended  merrymaking.  He  had  come  out,  with  his 
gun  and  dog,  with  no  other  object  than  to  execute  this 
strategic  descent  upon  the  rustic  roysterers. 

"My  goodness!  Bradford,"  exclaimed  Mother  Brad- 
dock,  "ef  you  don't  put  in  some  kind  uv  evidence  to 
property  holdin'  in  this  'ere  grove,  you'll  hev'  someun' 
claimin'  it,  'ith  all  this  here  other  people's  'propri- 
atin'  it.  Sit  down — sit  doM^n, "  continued  the  hospitable 
and  unaffected  countrywoman,  "an'  hev'  a  bite." 

"That  there  bein'  the  sentiments  fur  the  occasion, 
ladies  and  gents,"  observed  a  picturesque  figure,  quietly 
emerging  from  the  wood,  "I'd  like  to  join  the  festive 
scene,  if  the  skipper  of  this  'ere  picnickin'  vessel  has  no 
objection, — 'bein','  as  a  friend  of  mine  once  said,  'nearly 
my  dinner  hour. '  ' ' 

De,  with  a  look  of  surprise,  recognized,  in  the  new 
arrival,  the  threatened  victim  of  the  late  ineffectual  at- 
tempt at  lynching. 

Wliite  sat  in  silence,  waitin'g  developments.  He  had 
not  seen  his  co-worker,  to  speak  with  him,  since  their 
fortuitous  and  significant  day  by  the  river. 

The  newcomer,  a  tramp,  the  lord  of  the  road,  the 
supreme  freemaster,  wore  his  insignia  of  freedom  and 
princely  rags  with  an  unrestrained  air  of  easy  and 
swaggering  unconcern  equal  to  that  of  the  graceful  and 
devil-may-care  Don  Caesar  de  Bazan  himself;  and  little 
recking  the  trials  of  the  rolling,  heaving  deep  of  the 
past.  A  much  worn  black  felt  hat  was  on  his  head  of 
dark,  shaggy  hair,  while  his  whiskers,  of  the  tint  and 
character  of  the  hair,  spread  in  a  profuse  mass  over  his 
firm  jaws  and  broad  tanned  face.     The  eyes  were  keen 


JOHN  BRADDOCK'S  ARREST.  231 

and  piercing, — now,  twinkling  with  good  humor;  and 
the  large,  strong  mouth  wore  an  expression  of  smiling 
complacency.  The  good  ship  was  battered,  but  the  free 
winds  of  the  ocean  of  life  still  bore  it  gallantly  on. 

De  said  nothing,  as  her  gaze  once  more  dwelt  upon 
the  ingratiating  features  of  the  countenance  of  the 
former  threatened  and  rescued  victim  of  the  lynchers; 
while  her  mind  went  back  to  the  day  on  the  dusty  old 
"Wabash  road,  where,  with  courage  and  daring  akin  to 
that  of  heroines  of  old,  she  had  controlled  a  mob  bent 
upon  this  man's  summary  and  unmerited  destruction. 

"Mother,"  said  De,  hurriedly,  "let  him  have  din- 
ner," and  the  others  being  long  ere  this  satisfied,  not  to 
say,  in  the  ease  of  one  Esau,  stuffed,  Smolcy^  Billings  was 
invited  to  seat  himself  upon  the  springy  mosses  affording 
support  for  the  diners  and  fall  to  upon  the  ample  re- 
mains of  the  generous  and  welcome  woodland  banquet. 

If  Billings  now  saw,  or  recognized  if  he  saw,  the 
wondering  and  watching  De  (who  had  her  fascinated 
and  stirring  gaze  fastened  upon  the  unmoved  and  fam- 
ished man  much  as  a  layman  will  devour  the  features  of 
an  actor  who,  for  the  first  time,  is  noticed  abroad),  it  was 
not  manifest.  He  cleared  away  the  remains  of  the  din- 
ner that  was  placed  before  him, — or  that,  with  perfect 
composure,  he  drew  within  the  cricle  of  his  portion  of 
the  table  cloth, — including  a  remnant,  amounting  to  half 
a  bottle  of  Mother  Braddock's  select  elderberry  wine, 
with  slow,  solemn  and  grave  deliberation,  circumspectly 
restraining  his  devouring  wants  to  the  agreeable  pro- 
prieties of  the  occasion. 

It  was  observable  that,  from  time  to  time,  the 
thoughtful  eater  turned  his  eyes — he  did  not  move  his 
head,  but  revolved  his  eyes  in  their  sockets  after  the 
manner  of  the  beacon  in  a  lighthouse — upon  the  picnick- 
ers surrounding  him,  and  especially  was  he  noticed  to 


232  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

fix,  for  fleeting  seconds,  those  rotating  orbs  upon  the 
lingering  and  constrained  person  of  Mr.  Brad  Simons. 

Mr.  Smoky  Billings  ha\dng,  at  ^Mother  Braddock's 
pressing  and  good  hearted  solicitation,  comfortably 
tucked  away  a  last  piece  of  apple  pie,  slowly  rose  to  his 
feet.  As  he  did  so  in  dignified  and  impressive  silence, 
it  was  apparent  that  the  personage  whom  he  had  fixed 
upon  as  the  "skipper  of  this  'ere  picnickin'  vessel," 
before  alluded  to  by  the  wanderer,  was  Mrs.  Braddock, 
for  he  approached  that  lady  with  a  sufficiently  gentle- 
manly deportment,  and,  in  a  strong  bass  voice,  which 
rumbled  richly  in  his  throat,  said, 

"Thankee,  mum,"  and  smiled  twinklingly  and  quite 
attractively. 

The  self-possessed  and  unconcerned  visitor  then 
moved  off  easily  in  the  direction  of  the  surrounding 
wood  enclosing  the  little  vale,  and  noiselessly  disap- 
peared among  the  trees  whence  he  had  just  come. 

Dinner  over,  Ann  Mariah  and  Bob  passed  into  the 
deeper  and  more  mysterious  seclusions  and  retreats  of 
the  grove.  Even  the  widow  and  Job  proceeded,  in  some 
soft  and  secret  understanding,  into  the  wood. 

It  was  now  White's  turn  with  De,  and  when  these 
two  took  their  owti  way  among  the  trees,  Mrs.  Braddock 
left  the  litter  of  the  feast,  and,  in  respect  of  restoring 
articles  to  baskets,  remarking, 

"Time  enough,  when  they  come  back,"  seated  herself 
in  a  chair,  taken  for  the  purpose  from  the  red  farm 
wagon,  to  enjoy  a  nap. 

Brad  Simons,  drawing  interest  on  the  investments  of 
selfishness,  and  cutting  the  coupons  of  the  bonds  of  un- 
kindness,  had  had  a  long  spell  of  dreary  commonplaces 
with  those  whom  the  departed  lovemakers  had  left  be- 
hind ;  when,  finally.  Parson  Woods  following  a  chat  with 
Mona,  much  to  Simons'  complete  discomfiture  and  eon- 


JOHN  BRADDOCK'S  ARREST.  233 

fused  sense  of  jealousy  with  De  Braddock  and  William 
"White  in  contemplation,  sauntered  off  with  Miss  Walker 
for  a  stroll. 

Brad  gazed,  with  scarcely  concealed  disgust,  first 
after  the  par.son  and  Mona,  and  next  at  Mrs.  Braddock 
comfortably  seated  in  a  chair  and  soundly  asleep. 

With  something  like  a  bit  of  ironical  humor  strug- 
gling for  expression  in  his  face,  he  soliloquized, 

"Entertaining  company  on  a  gentleman's  own 
premises,"  and  turned  to  go. 

William  White  had  seated  De  on  a  log  not  far  off,  in 
the  wood,  and  was  returning  to  the  glade  for  the  purpose 
of  procuring  her  a  glass  of  water  from  the  bucket,  which 
the  fat  farmboy  had,  at  one  time  in  the  day,  laboriously 
filled  from  a  spring  in  the  vicinity. 

White,  bent  upon  his  commission,  had  taken  several 
steps  from  the  wood  into  the  clearing,  when  he  almost, 
ran  into  Brad  Simons  sauntering  slowly  away.  The' 
hastening  writer  avoided  the  encounter  and  reached  the 
water  bucket. 

' '  Heard  the  news  ? ' '  asked  the  cattleman. 

"What  news?"  queried  White  indifferently,  rising, 
at  the  same  time,  from  his  bending  posture  over  thie 
water  receptacle,  having  filled  his  glass. 

"Another  arrest  in  the  Zeke  Smithin  murder  case." 

"Who,  this  time?" 

"Tom  Bolers,  John  Braddock 's  brother  in  law." 

The  writer  uttered  an  involuntary  exclam.ition  • 

"Nance's  brother!" 

"You  see,"  said  Brad  Simons,  "some  money  paid 
out  by  Tom  has  been  identified  by  the  faro  dealer,  as  that 
which  Zeke  won" 

William  White  continued  to  gaze  silently  at  his  com- 
panion. He  was  thinking  of  the  trouble  this  would  bring 
to  another  so  dear  to  himself ;  for  that  which  would  pain 


234  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

John's  heart,  through  his  wife,  would  pain  De's  through 
John. 

"It's  a  bad  case,"  said  Simons  who,  to  do  the  latter 
justice,  it  is  but  fair  to  say  could  not,  in  view  of  the 
€vidence  that  had  been  discovered,  but  entertain  sus- 
picions of  young  Bolers;  "but  that's  not  the  worst  of 
it,"  added  the  speaker 

"What  more?"  quickly  ejaculated  the  other  man,  a 
swift,  indefinable  instinct  of  alarm  and  apprehension 
seizing  him. 

"John  Braddock's  been  arrested  for  the  murder  of 
Zeke  Smithin,  along  with  Tom." 

White  dropped  the  glass  he  held  in  his  hand  and, 
striking  a  stone,  the  drinking  vessel  broke  in  splintered 
fragments,  splashing  the  water  it  contained  about,  and 
plenteously  besprinkling  the  slumbering  and  gorged 
Esau,  who  was  extended  at  full  length  beneath  the  farm 
wagon,  and  who  was  aroused  from  an  interesting  and 
absorbing  dream  that  he  had  been  made  the  unhappy 
victim  of  a  sudden  and  overwhelming  cloudburst,  con- 
sisting of  undigested  pies,  chickens  and  cider ! 

Uncle  Peter  Braddock,  unexpectedly  arriving  at  that 
moment,  cried: 

"What's  that?" 

And  Mother  Braddock,  just  awakening,  called  out, 

"What's  the  matter,  Peter?" 

"What  keeps  you,  William?"  brightly  questioned 
De,  gaily  stepping  into  the  open  space  and  meeting  the 
consternation  there. 

And  Bob  Likkum,  Ann  Mariah,  Job  Saunders  and 
Widow  Walmsey,  drawn  by  some  secret  sympathy,  came 
simultaneously  into  view,  within  the  enclosure  of  cleared 
ground,  only  to  become  instantly  fixed  in  attitudes  of 
sympathetic  regard  and  attention. 

The  discomposed  and  slumberously  ill  used  farmboy 


JOHN  BRADDOCK'S  ARREST.  235 

Esau  shook  himself  and  scrambled  to  a  sitting  position 
under  the  wagon;  Parson  Woods  struggled  to  his  feet, 
and  even  the  Braddock  Newfoundland  alertly  came  and 
sniffed  growlingly  at  Simons'  legs. 

At  this  instant,  Smoky  Billings  appeared  slowly  on 
the  scene.  He  had  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  stopped, 
with  no  seeming  interest,  within  easy  distance  of  Brad 
Simons  and,  happening  to  catch  his  roving  glance,  stood 
eying  that  gentleman  with  frank  and  unruffled  com- 
posure. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


AJf     UNEXPLAINED    VISITOR    FROM     KENTUCKY    FILLS     THE 
ATMOSPHERE  WITH  DEEPEST   MYSTERY. 

Old  Peter  Braddock  bore  the  shock  of  John's  arrest 
with  unexpected  composure,  and  threw  himself,  farm- 
lands and  universal  possessions  into  the  defense  of  his 
offspring  with  a  vigor  and  energy  that  knew  no  bounds. 
Mother  Braddock  wept;  but,  on  the  whole,  was  tranquil 
under  the  ministrations  of  Parson  Woods,  and  her  own 
sublime  faith  in  her  boy.  De  took  John's  arrest  harder 
than  anyone,  though  in  no  way  permitting  herself  to 
slacken  her  efforts  in  behalf  of  her  brother,  or  cast  disap- 
pointment, discouragement  or  gloom  upon  the  efforts  of 
others  in  the  same  direction. 

One  of  the  most  singular  things  about  the  situation 
was  the  effect  it  had  on  the  strained  and  prejudiced  per- 
sonal relations  at  this  time  existing  between  Farmer 
Braddock  and  William  White.  The  really  acute  and 
well  trained  mind  of  the  capable  and  promising  writer, 
brought  to  bear  upon  the  difficulties  in  j\Ir.  Braddock 's 
surroundings,  enabled  a  generous  and  forgiving  disposi- 
tion in  the  literary  man  to  secure  a  corresponding  toler- 
ance, on  the  farmer's  part,  of  the  writer's  earnest  and 
effective  efforts  to  inject  comfort  and  philosophic  if  not 
practical  counsel  into  the  afflicted  man's  life.  The 
troubled  old  Hoosier's  opinion  of  the  younger  man  now 
soared  to  a  height  of  respect  and  confidence  in  the  tried 
old  fellow's  hour  of  adversity. 

236 


AN  UNEXPLAINED  VISITOR.  237 

"De,  child,"  remarked  Mrs.  Braddock,  one  morning 
shortly  following  the  day  of  the  memorable  picnic  in 
Simons'  Grove,  "do  you'  'pear  ter  hev'  any  idee  that 
Job  Sa'nders,  reely,  hez  ser'us  intentions,  'bout  Widder 
Wa'msey?" 

"Shouldn't  wonder,  mother,"  was  De's  reply,  wath 
a  look  of  perplexed  amusement,  as  she  turned  to  her 
father  just  coming  into  the  kitchen,  from  the  yard. 

"Peter,"  said  mother,  turning  to  Uncle  Peter  enter- 
ing with  a  load  of  firewood  in  his  arms,  "do  make  that 
boy  Esau  do  them  chores." 

"All  right,  Marthy,"  responded  the  vigorous  old 
man,  dropping  the  wood  resoundingly  on  the  pile  by  the 
stove.  "There  comes  William,  De,"  added  the  farmer 
looking  off,  through  a  window,  upon  the  road,  where,  in 
the  language  of  the  old  fashioned  novelist,  "a  solitary 
horseman  might  have  been  seen  wending  his  way."  The 
father's  voice  was  gravely  considerate  in  this  brief  ad- 
dress to  the  girl;  but,  brief  as  were  the  words,  the  sig- 
nificance of  his  manner  touched  his  daughter,  and  she 
rose  from  where  she  was  sitting,  and,  putting  an  arm 
around  the  old  gentleman's  neck,  drew  his  face  to  hers 
and  kissed  him. 

"There,  there,  you  be  a  good  girl,"  he  said,  patting 
his  daughter's  cheek  wath  his  callous,  toil  hardened 
fingers,  "an',"  added  the  father,  "it's  a  great  comfort, 
jes'  now,  an'  God  is  good!"  and  the  old  man  devoutly 
and  reverentially  raised  his  gaze  on  high  and  passed  out 
of  the  kitchen,  as  he  had  come  in. 

' '  Hello  there,  house ! "  at  this  moment  shouted  a 
voice  from  the  road,  and  Uncle  Peter  turned  back  into 
the  kitchen  with  the  remark, 

"That  ain't  Vfilliam's  voice,  tho'  I  seen  him,"  and 
went  on  through  the  house  and  out  to  the  open  front 


238  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

door,  where  he  was  heard,  the  next  moment,  to  call, 
heartily, 

"Howdee,  West, —  'light,"  which  speech  Mr.  Brad- 
dock  regarded  as  an  invitation  for  West  Flank,  sitting 
on  horseback  in  the  road,  to  alight,  uttered  and  stood 
silent. 

"Can't — can't  get  down,  Peter — got  a  message  fur 
ye,  thet's  all." 

"Come  in,  come  in, — ye  kin  tell  it  jes'  as  well  inside 
the  house,  Wes',  reckon,"  urged  the  hospitable  Hoosier. 

"Can't  do  it — can't  get  down,  I  mean,  Peter, — im- 
possible; but  I  wanter  tell  ye,  a  man  do^vn  to  town,  las' 
night,  tell  me,  'at  a  man — sick  nigh  there — hez  your 
name — stranger.    Know  him  ? ' ' 

"My  name?"  inquiringly  and  blankly  replied  Uncle 
Peter. 

"Yep,"  said  West. 

"Mother,"  called  Uncle  Peter,  helplessly,  "won't  ye 
come  here?" 

Mrs.  Braddock  promptly  put  in  an  appearance  at 
her  husband's  side  in  the  doorway. 

"Did  ye  say,"  went  on  Uncle  Peter  addressing  his 
wife,  "that  Hiram  wuz  a-comin'  to  visit  us  from  Ken- 
tucky ? ' ' 

"Yes,  Peter;  why  do  you  ask?"  was  Mrs.  Braddock 's 
natural  reply. 

"Why,  here  be  a  man  do^Mi  nigh  about  town,  'at 
Wes'  says  hez  our  name.  He  be  sick,  too.  I  say,  Wes', 
wuz  his  name  Hiram?"  asked  Peter,  looking  question- 
ingly  at  West  Flank. 

' '  Egg-zackly  what  it  was, ' '  answered  Flank  from  the 
road,  respectfully. 

"Mother,  that's  him,"  said  Uncle  Peter  turning  back 
quickly  to  Martha, — "Cousin  Hi." 

"Well,  now,  Peter,  I'll  allow!"  Mrs.  Braddock  ex- 


AN  UNEXPLAINED  VISITOR.  239 

claimed  in  a  tone  of  great  astonishment;  ^xhy,  the  pore 
fellow! — much  sick,  Wes'?"  called  Mother  Braddock,  in 
her  turn. 

"Pooty  sick,  Mis'  Braddock,"  rejoined  West  Flank, 
rubbing  the  top  of  his  horse 's  neck  wi  ih  his  riding  whip, 
while  he  kept  his  own  face  sympathizingly  fixed  in  the 
direction  of  the  house,  from  his  continued  seat  on  the 
back  of  the  horse. 

"Peter,  go  right  and  see,"  directed  Mrs.  Braddock, 
flatly. 

At  this  moment,  William  White  rode  up  at  a  slow 
walk,  and  West  Flank,  earnestly  and  heartfeltedly 
thanked  by  Peter  and  mother,  cantered  on  in  response 
to  his  own  unavoidable  haste,  throwing  back  profuse, 
generous  and  sincere  wishes  that  the  condition  of  the 
Braddock  relative  might  not  prove  desperate  or  beyond 
hope. 

Peter  Braddock  and  William  Wliite  went  to  see  the 
sick  man  who,  under  the,  to  Peter  and  Martha,  familiar 
name  of  Hiram  Braddock,  had  been  taken  in  by  a  friend- 
ly' Samaritan  in  the  vicinity  of  the  county  seat  and 
cared  for  in  his  painful  and  unlooked  for  affliction. 

De,  at  her  own  earnest  solicitation,  was  permitted  to 
make  one  of  the  party,  and  the  red  farm  wagon,  fol- 
lowed by  the  Newfoundland  dog  and  containing  Uncle 
Peter,  White  and  De,  and  even  ]\Iother  Braddock  at  the 
last  moment,  jolted  dutifully  to  town  in  one  of  those 
surprising  daily  events  in  which  a  strange  and  wonder- 
ful network  of  chance  moves  the  world  in  a  ceaseless 
revolution  of  miseries  and  joys. 

Peter  Braddock  was  pained  and  shocked  enough  to 
find  in  the  sick  stranger  his  Kentucky  relative  Hiram 
Braddock.  But  it  had  transpired  worse  with  his  kins- 
man than  reported  to  Peter,  for  the  old  Hoosier  found 
the  Kentuckian  near  death.    He  was  unconscious,  before 


240  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

the  arrival  of  his  anxious  and  inquiring  friend?,  and,  so, 
long  remained. 

William  White  and  Peter  Braddoek,  the  former  of 
whom  proving  a  worthy  and  now  indispensable  source 
of  reliance  to  the  troubled  Indiana  farmer  in  this  last 
unexpected  mishap,  learned  that  Peter's  kinsman,  with 
marks  of  evident  violence  about  his  head  and  person,  and 
unable  to  give  any  connected  account  of  his  troubles, 
had  wandered  at  night  to  the  door  of  the  open  hearted 
country  people,  who  had  received  and  kindly  ministered 
to  him. 

In  one  of  his  pockets  was  found  a  receipted  account 
bearing  the  name  of  the  injured  man,  and,  by  this  means, 
he  had  been  satisfactorily  identified. 

After  doing  all  that  lay  in  their  power  for  the  unfor- 
tunate Kentuckian  who  had,  before  their  arrival,  been 

placed  under  the  care  of  T 's  best  medical  aid,  White 

and  Uncle  Peter  Braddoek  with  mother  and  De  went 
over  to  the  jail  to  see  John. 

John  Braddoek,  following  his  arrest,  had  carried 
himself  with  the  nerve  that  naturally  belonged  to  his 
staunch  old  Western  stock.  His  imprisonment,  which 
had  been  made  as  comfortable  as  possible  by  the  sheriff, 
had  really  not  told  much  if  any  upon  him.  and  it  was 
only  when  mention  was  made  of  his  fellow  prisoner  Tom 
Bolers,  confined  in  a  neighboring  cell,  that  John  Brad- 
,  dock  gave  evidence  of  anxiety  or  uneasiness. 

All  interested  in  the  defendant  in  the  celebrated 
cause  of  the  State  of  Indiana  versus  John  Braddoek 
were  sustained,  in  their  conviction  of  John  Braddoek 's 
innocence  of  the  crime  imputed  to  him,  by  their  knowl- 
edge of  the  high  character  of  his  family  and  his  owti 
unblemished  reputation  for  honesty  and  integrity.  How- 
ever, there  are  rarely  absent  those  who,  in  moments  of 
trial  of  sacred  honors,  lives  and  fortunes,  will  find  .some 


AN  UNEXPLAINED  VISITOR.  241 

breath  of  unusual  suspicion,  with  which  to  taint  the  fair 
fame  of  the  unhappy  subject.  And  so,  in  the  ease  of 
young  Braddock,  there  were  those  who  did  not  omit  to 
say,  ''No  good  could  come  of  anyone  who  had  married  a 
woman  like  Nance  Bolers!"  But  John's  friends  paid 
no  attention  to  this,  and  Uncle  Peter,  White,  JMother  and 
De  proceeded  to  the  jail  with  the  feeling  that  nothing 
had  been  neglected  to  secure  for  son  and  friend  and 
brother  every  promise  of  fair  play. 

To-day  had  been  one  of  thoughtful  unrest  for  John, 
lie  could  not  fail  to  be  conscious  of  his  own  innocence; 
iilthough  the  circumstances  leading  to  his  arrest  for  the 
murder  and  robbery  of  Smithin  were  such  as  to  have 
afforded  a  serious  warrant  of  inquiry  into  the  aspect  of 
the  case  in  regard  to  even  himself. 

Many  of  us  can  recall  liow,  by  the  acts  of  some  artistic 
genius,  the  faces  of  distinguished  public  officials  orna- 
menting our  currency,  in  moments  of  idle  fancy  have 
been  altered  to  resemble  some  other  characteristic  coun- 
tenance, as  of  an  old  gentleman  with  a  patch  ovr-r  one 
eye,  and  wearing  a  very  disreputal)le  looking  smaslied 
high,  silk  hat,  together  with  the  appearance  of  a  sliort 
pipe  protruding  from  his  distorted  and  swollen  lips.  A 
bill  so  marked  had  been  found  among  those  with  which 
John  Braddock  had  paid  the  note  given,  by  him,  in  Tom 
Bolers ''interest,  to  Brad  Simons.  It  was  here  that  the 
formidable  and  threatening  cattle  mercliant  had  been 
moved  to  the  course  he  subsequently  pursued. 

Whatever  the  suspicion, — whether  sufficient  or  in- 
sufficient,— which  Brad  Simons  may  have  ])een  previous- 
ly prompted  to  entertain  of  his  unscrupulous  and  dan- 
gerous associate,  Jason  Jump,  relating  to  the  cause  of 
the  death  of  Zeke  Smithin,  Simons  saw  fit  to  further 
completely  and  conspicuously  ignore  the  brigand  chief. 
In  the  dark  and  sinuous  workings  of  his  scheming  mind, 


242  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

he  realized  that  here,  at  last,  might  be  an  unquestionable 
and  uncontestable  advantage  to  himself  concerning  De 
Braddock  and  De  Braddock's  brother. 

He  went  with  prompt  decision  to  the  faro  dealer, 
whose  bank  Zeke  was  known  to  have  broken.  The 
gambler  unhesitatingly  identified  the  bill  just  described 
as  one  of  those  paid  by  him  to  Smithin,  on  the  night  the 
latter  won  and  left  triumphantly  with  the  dealer's  cash. 
With  the  suspicious  and  incriminating  piece  of  money, 
in  this  manner  positively  known  to  have  been  in  the 
possession  of  Braddock,  it  was,  at  this  point,  all  too 
effectively  remembered,  by  Brad,  that  John  Braddock 
had,  in  the  former's  own  hearing,  threatened  the  life  of 
Zeke  Smithin.  Brad  proceeded  directly  to  De's  brother. 
Upon  being  questioned,  John  asserted  that  he  had  re- 
ceived the  marked  bill  and  its  fellows  from  Tom  Bolers, 
but  denied  all  knowledge  of  any  criminal  source  from 
whence  the  money  might  have  originally  been  procured, 
by  Tom.  Simons'  investigations  necessarily  if  not  by 
Brad's  conscious  and  evil  design  caused  Braddock  and 
Bolers  jointly  to  be  arrested. 

John  was  sitting  and  idly  thrumming  with  his  fingers 
upon  the  edge  of  the  iron  cot  set  along  the  wall  of  his 

narrow  cell,  in  the  T county  jail,  when  the  sheriff 

came  to  the  door. 

"Here's  your  pap,  Johnny,"  announced  the  jail  offi- 
cial, "come  to  see  you.  Cheer  up,"  said  the  kind  hearted 
officer,  ' '  you  '11  come  through,  all  right. ' ' 

John  ceased  the  monotonous  play  of  his  fingers  on 
the  iron  cot,  and  glancing  up  smiled  brightly.  He 
looked,  at  the  instant,  wonderfully  like  De.  "Hope  so, 
sheriff,  and  I  guess  I  -will.  Father,  there?"  queried  the 
prisoner,  cheerfully. 

"Yep,  he  be,"  rejoined  the  sheriff,  who  stepped  aside, 


AN  UNEXPLAINED  VISITOR.  243 

allowing  Mr.  Braddock,  senior,  William  White  and  party 
to  occupy  his  place. 

"Though  it's  ag'in'  the  rules,"  said  the  sheriff, 
"s'posin'  you  see  him  in  my  office,"  and  the  officer 
touched  Farmer  Braddock  familiarly  on  the  shoulder. 

"W'y,  I  thankee,  kindly,  Zach,"  replied  the  farmer, 
and  the  party  adjourned  to  a  large  and  commodious 
room  constituting  the  sheriff's  own  private  office,  where 
they  were  enahlcd,  without  restriction  of  bars,  to  be  in 
fuller  and  more  unrestrained  communion. 

' '  I  guess,  Peter,  ye  won 't  play  me  no  tricks, ' '  said  the 
sheriff  in  a  satisfied  tone,  as  he  stepped  towards  the  door 
with  the  manifestly  delicate  intention  of  leaving  the 
company  alone.     He  promptly  withdrew,  when, 

"He'll  Stan'  his  trial,"  returned  the  stout  old 
farmer. 

John  Braddock  seated  himself  in  the  midst  of  his 
family;  and  turned  his  eyes  slowly,  by  an  involuntary 
impulse,  upon  William  White  and  his  sister  De.  as 
though,  in  some  unknown  way,  relief  might  be  sought  in 
their  direction. 

After  the  customary  exchange  of  intimate  family 
attentions  had  been  observed,  a  moment  of  quiet  ensued. 

"Ye  say,"  said  Uncle  Peter,  at  length  breaking  the 
silence,  ' '  'at  ye  got  the  money  uv  Tom,  an '  that 's  all  ye 
know  about  the  matter?"  as  the  old  man  spoke,  he  fixed 
a  sym.pathizing  look  of  earnest  and  wistful  scrutiny 
upon  his  son's  face. 

"Yes,  father,"  rejoined  the  son,  "Tom  brought  me 
the  money  at  a  time  when  great  need  pressed  me." 

"And  did  no  one  see  him  pay  you?"  queried  White. 
"Tom  denies  it,  of  course,  as  is  to  be  expected.  And 
you  have  no  witness?" 

"None,"  said  John. 

"But,  Johnny,"  said  mother,  "ye  knew  that  that  'ere 


244  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN.  ^ 

Tom  Bolers  wuz  a  thief  er,  -vvhut  was  ez  bad,  a  f orgerer, ' ' 
added  i\Irs.  Braddock,  making  the  last  word  especially 
strong  by  the  unconscious  supply  of  an  extra  syllable. 

"He  took  me  off  my  guard,"  responded  John.  "He 
told  me  that  he  had  received  a,  favorable  settlement  in 
the  land  case,  in  which  I  kneAV  him  to  have  an  interest 
of  some  kind  before  the  courts.  I  never  stopped  to  ques- 
tion him.    I  find  he  lied. ' ' 

"Ye  think  he  done  this  thing?"  queried  Peter  Brad- 
dock. 

"Murdered  Smithin?"  said  John  Braddock;  "don't 
ask  me. ' ' 

"It  looks  bad,"  said  White.  "John,"  continued 
De's  lover,  "no  one  who  knows  you  will  ever  suppose 
you  had  anything  to  do  with  the  killing  and  robbing  of 
Zeke  Smithin,  but  the  processes  of  the  law  Avill  have  to 
be  satisfied,  as  you  yourself  well  know.  Where  were  you 
at  eleven  o'clock, — the  time  fixed,  I  believe,  when  this 
murder  is  said  to  have  been  committed, — on  the  night  of 
the  commission  of  the  crime?  Your  defense,  I  think, 
should  be  an  alibi.  Can  you  tell  where  you  were,  at  the 
time  of  the  killing  of  Smithin?    Think,  now." 

"Why,"  replied  Braddock  quite  readily,  "I  was 
here  in  to^vn.    I  came  over  from  home  on  business." 

' '  Can  you  prove  it  ? "  questioned  White  earnestly. 

"Why,  I  suppose  so,"  returned  the  suspected  man, 
■sdth  that  quick  assurance  which  is  the  first  impulse  of 
those  who  think  all  should  be  as  satisfied  of  their  conten- 
tion as  they  themselves. 

"John,"  said  William  White  seriously,  and  De  sat 
watching  the  faces  of  William  and  her  brother  witli  de- 
vouring intensity,  "  'suppose'  won't  do.  You  must 
Jc7ioiv.  Can  you  swear  positively  to  the  place  where  you 
were,  other  than  at  the  scene  of  the  killing,  on  the  night 
and  at  the  time  in  cpestion  ? ' ' 


AN  UNEXPLAINED  VISITOR.  245 

Braddock  was  readily  able  to  say  that  he  could, — 
that  he  stood,  for  a  few  moments,  in  front  of  the  Travers 
Hotel,  at  about  the  hour  of  eleven,  on  the  night  referred 
to. 

"So  far,  so  good,"  commented  White.  *'Do  you 
know  anyone  who,  likewise,  knows  you  were  there? 
Pardon  me,"  he  hastened  to  add,  thinking  he  saw  a 
shade  of  reproach  cross  De's  face  that  the  questioner's 
examination  of  her  brother  should  seem  to  imply  any 
doubt  of  the  latter 's  veracity,  "but  a  law  of  evidence 
will  demand  corroboration  of  the — of  John's  testi- 
mony," consideration  for  those  present  had  prevented 
him  from  saying,  "the  prisoner's." 

John  Braddock  replied  that  he  had  seen  several 
people,  that  night,  on  business — the  night  Zeke  Smithin 
came  by  his  death.  He  had  left  one  of  his  business 
acquaintances,  the  most  important  and  the  one  v/hom  he 

had  really  come  to  T to  see,  for  De's  brother  did  not 

live  in  the  town  in  which  he  now  lay  imprisoned, — he 
had  left  this  man  about  ten  o'clock,  and  after  that — ah, 
there  was  the  rub ! — after  that,  he  had  walked  about  aim- 
lessly for  an  hour,  passing  time  until  bedtime,  and — 
alone. 

"Exactly  what  the  prosecution  wants,  and  will  make 
the  most  of,"  exclaimed  Wliite  thoughtlessly,  for  he  saw 
De  change  color,  and  even  John  Braddock  stirred  un- 
easily in  his  chair;  while  Mother  and  Uncle  Peter  Brad- 
dock were  pale  to  the  lips  under  the  tension.  William 
White  hurriedly  added  that  which,  to  do  him  justice, 
he  had  already  thought  to  say,  "and,"  he  said  emphat- 
ically, * '  we  know  now  what  to  do ;  some  one  must  be 
found  to  testify  to  seeing  John  in  front  of  the  hotel." 

"Someone  must  be  .found  to  testify  to  seeing  John  in 
front  of  the  hotel,"  the  words  of  William  Wliite  kept 


246  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

ringing  in  De's  ears.     "Someone  must  be  found  to  tes- 
tify to  seeing  John  in  front  of  the  hotel." 
-■     "Weil,  now,  see  here,"  said  Uncle  Peter,  "you  don't 
'tend  to  say,  William,  'at  it  can't  be  did — can't  lind  nary 
one  to  swear  to  where  John  vraz,  do  ye  ? " 

J\Iother  hung  on  the  writer's  words  as  White,  not 
liking  to  let  those  present  know  the  doubts  that  har- 
assed his  owTi  mind,  hesitated  as  to  what  to  say.  Fin- 
ally he  replied  to  Uncle  Peter's  anxious  inquiry, 

"Never  fear,  Uncle  Peter,  we'll  find  someone,"  and 
the  literary  man's  tones  were  so  cheerful  and  confident 
that  encouragement  and  hope  were  carried  with  them  to 
Hie  hearts  of  everybody,  and  Mother  Braddock  drew  a 
sigh  of  relief. 

De  was  silent  during  the  remainder  of  the  time 
passed  with  the  prisoner.  While  topics  of  comfort  and 
other  subjects  usual  to  such  occasions  were  discussed  by 
her  companions,  she  was  lost  in  thought  over  what  her 
lover  had  said.  "Someone  must  be  found  to  testify  to 
seeing  John  in  front  of  the  hotel."  Could  anyone  be 
found?  and  if  not,  what  then?  Would  it  be  possible  to 
find  a  witness  who  could  swear  to  seeing  him  there,  any- 
way— sv/ear  falsely?  De's  own  perceptions  of  the  obli- 
gations of  legal  testimony  were  those  of  one  Avho  had 
been  brought  up  to  venerate  existing  order.  A  person 
who  testified  in  a  court  of  law  would  have,  she  thought 
with  a  little  thrill  of  awe,  to  "kiss  the  book."  Suppos- 
ing it  were  herself  tbat  were  called  on  to  swear  that  she 
had  seen  John  in  front  of  the  hotel,  could  she,  who  had 
not  seen  him,  "kiss  the  hook"  and  swear  -he  had?  What 
M'ould  the  father  confessor  say  to  that?  for,  you  know, 
De  was  a  Catholic.  She  was  still  puzzling  over  these 
things  when  the  others  rose  to  go;  and,  Avith  tbe  look  of 
love  she  had  given  her  brother  still  lingering  in  her  eyes, 
after  the  visitors  had  left  the  jail  she  continued  to  puzzle 


AN  UNEXPLAINED  VISITOR.  247 

over  them  until  William  White,  noticing  her  preoccupa- 
tion, asked  the  reason  of  it. 

"Oh,  nothing,"  said  the  girl,  and  could  not  be  pre- 
vailed upon  to  explain  herself  further. 

John  Braddock's  callers  had  been  gone  some  time  and 
John  had  returned  to  his  cell.  A  voice,  in  his  vicinity, 
broke  the  stillness  of  the  jail, — it  was  that  of  someone 
evidently  talking  to  the  sheriff.  It  came  nearer.  It  was 
the  voice  of  Brad  Simons,  and  through  it  came  to  the 
ears  of  the  prisoner  the  words, 

"Let  me  see  him,  sheriff.  You  know  I  mean, him  no 
harm.  And  I  may  be  able  to  get  him  out  of  this,  without 
any  trouble." 

John  attention  became  fixed 
"Why,  certainly.  Brad;  suppose  they  can't  Ix^  no 
harm,"  returned  the  sheriff  who,  after  all,  had  only 
seen,  in  the  part  played  by  Simons,  the  actions  of  a  man 
inspired  by  a  natural  desire  to  bring  justice  to  light; 
although  Zach  Stoner,  the  simple  hearted  oiScer,  disliked 
Brad's  relation  to  the  case,  unfortunate  though  that 
relation  was 

John,  sitting  alone  upon  the  cot  in  his  cell,  listened 
to  the  conversation  passing  on  the  outside  between  Brad 
Simons  and  the  sheriff.  Whatever  Braddock  may  have 
thought  of  the  part  taken  by  the  grazier  in  the  affair  of 
his  own  arrest,  he  was,  similarly  with  the  sheriff,  con- 
strained, in  an  entirely  dispassionate  and  strict  view  of 
the  matter,  to  regard  Simons  as  but  a  blind  agent  in  the 
movements  of  justice.  And  so,  naturally  presuming  the 
object  of  the  cattleman  to  be  a  visit  to  himself,  he  pre- 
pared to  receive  Brad  with  perfect  friendliness. 

And  Bradford  Simons  proceeded  to  his  innings  with 
John  Braddock. 

"Braddock,"  said  the  cattle  dealer,  after  he  had 
entered  the  cell,  "you  are  as  well  aware  as  I,  that  I  came 


248  THT^  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

into  this  matter  through  no  ill  will  to  you,  but,  as  I  have 
once  before  explained,  through  a  purely  accidental  dis- 
covery, on  my  part,  of  the  marked  bill  you  say  Tom 
brought  to  you  along  with  the  other  money  paid  me, 
when  you  redeemed  your  note.  I  have  come  to  make 
sure  that  you  bear  me  no  malice." 

"None,  in  the  least,  Brad — none,  in  the  least,"  John 
Braddock  answered  cordially. 

"John,"  continued  Simons,  who  had  been  standing 
in  front  of  Braddock,  and  proceeding  to  w^alk  hurriedly 
a  length  of  the  cell,  "you  have  relieved  me  more  than  I 
can  tell,"  and  in  truth  had  John  Braddock  done  that 
very  thing,  for  Brad  Simons  had  scant  showing  to  win 
fovor  with  De  without  the  good  will,  at  this  conjunction 
of  events,  of  De's  brother. 

"I  believe,  John,  I  can  see  a  way  to  get  you  out  of 
this  mess,"  thoughtfully  resumed  Simons  with  his  look 
on  John. 

We  would  be  little  less  than  human  were  we  indiffer- 
ent to  proffered  hope  of  restoration  to  liberty ;  of  return 
to  God's  free  air;  of  release  from  the  shadow  of  crime 
and  prison  walls. 

John  Braddock  was  human. 

"Brad,"  he  said  quickly,  "what  do  you  mean?" 

"What  I  say,"  replied  Simons  with  an  air  of  sym- 
pathy; "but  there  are  things  that  may  require — " 

"Come,  come;  let's  hear,"  said  the  other,  his  interest 
keener  than  delay. 

"John  Braddock,"  bluntly  burst  forth  Brad  Simons, 
' '  I  love  your  sister  De. ' ' 

"Wliat  has  that  to  do  with  it,"  said  the  prisoner 
quickly,  instantly  scenting  some  ulterior  design,  on  the 
part  of  his  visitor. 

"Little  or  nothing,  perhaps,"  diplomatically  hedged 
iHae  tempter, — "little  or  nothing, — it  merely,  that  mo- 


AN  UNEXPLAINED  VISITOR.  249 

ment, — well,  you  see,  I  do  love  her.  I  am  a  rich  man,  as 
you  are  aware,  and  she  should  never  know  what  it  was  to 
have  an  ungratified  wish." 

*'Brad,  I  ask  you,  again,  what  has  that  to  do  wnth  my 
case?"  asked  Braddock,  in  a  composed  and  dignified 
manner. 

'"John,"  persisted  Simons,  in  the  vein  in  which  he 
had  precipitated  himself,  "you're  not  the  guilty  party 
in  this  case — you  know  that,  and  so  do  I.  You  know  the 
guilty  man — Tom — Tom  Bolers. " 

"Hush!"  said  young  Braddock. 

"Still,  what  I  say  is  true,"  reiterated  Simons;  and 
he,  indeed,  believed  Nance's  brother  guilty  of  a  share  in 
a  conspiracy  to  murder  and  rob  Zeke  Smithin;  "what's 
the  use ! — let  Tom  Bolers,  for  once  in  his  life,  pay  the 
penalty  of  his  crimes." 

"Well?"  said  the  other  quietly. 

"Well,  help  me  to  win  your  sister,  and  togetlier  you 
and  T  can  fix  this  thing  on  Bolers; — if  you  don't  you 
stand  a  fair  chance  of  going  to  the  gallows  along  wiih  a 
no-account,  ne'er-do-well,  who  never  did  and  never  v/iU 
amount  to  more  than  jail  bird  material  in  this  world,  if 
he  ever  gets  anything  else  in  the  next,"  and  Brad 
Simons  had  had  three  strikes  in  his  innings;  he  started 
for  First,  on  what  he  thought  was  a  safe  hit. 

He  didn't  know  the  right  fielder  he  had  to  deal  with. 

John  Braddock  caught  the  fly,  tho'  he  had  to  reach 
high  to  get  it. 

"So  that's  your  game,  is  it?"  and  John,  as  he  made 
reply,  had  a  vision,  as  well,  of  the  loves  of  De  and 
William, — "so  that's  it.  Well,  well,  I  might  have  known 
better — I  might  have  known  it,"  continued  Braddock. 
"Few,  it  seems,  if  any,  do  things  in  this  world  without 
selfish  motives.  Now,  see  here.  Brad,"  and  the  speaker 
turned  abruptly,  in  his  turn,  upon  the  base  and  un- 


250  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

worthy  schemer,  who  continued  to  stand  and  eye  con- 
centratedly  the  still-seated  figure  of  the  prisoner,  "I  am 
not  required,  by  you  or  anyone,  to  state  my  private  im- 
pressions of  the  guilt  or  the  innocence  of  Tom  Bolers  or 
of  anybody  else.  I  am  just  simply  a  poor  devil  of  an 
unfortunate,  whom  force  of  circumstances  has  placed  in 
this  fix,  and  who  wants  to  do  about  as  near  right  as  God 
Almighty  or  fate,  or  whatever  it  is,  will  let  him,  and 
that 's  all ;  but  I  will  say  this,  that  I  'd  rather  go  along  in 
an  upright,  honest  way,  trying  to  do  as  little  harm  to  my 
neighbors  as  possible,  and  content  with  such  justice  as  I 
can  hope  to  get  dealt  out  to  me  in  the  mercy  of  the  All- 
Seeing,  than  to  go  skulking  in  and  out  of  people's  con- 
fidences, attempting  to  beguile  them  of  their  better 
selves,  and  living  only  to  fatten  selfishness  upon  them 
and  theirs, — I'd  rather  do  anything  than  that.  I  may  go 
to  the  gallows,  for  all  I  know,  but  I  '11  go  clean. ' ' 

"You  refuse  to  let  me  help  you?"  exploded  Simons 
in  a  burst  of  rage. 

"Upon  any  such  terms  as  those  that  you  have  just 
proposed?  yes,"  retorted  Braddock  with  firm  and  in- 
vincible spirit. 

"Then  your  fate  be  on  your  own  head,"  fairly 
hissed  the  infuriated  man.  ' '  John  Braddock,  I  wash  my 
hands  of  you,"  and  Simons  flung  furiously  from  Brad- 
dock's  presence  and  out  of  the  jail. 

Brad  had  had  his  innings  and  been,  as  we  care  to  put 
it  nowadays,  "annexed"  by  the  opposing  team. 

But  loyal  John  had  not  reckoned  with  De,  nor,  of  a 
verity,  had  Simons  either. 

And,  all  this  time,  the  visitor  from  Kentucky  was 
hovering  between  life  and  death. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


WILLIAM    WHITE    "GETS    INTO    THE    GAME        AND,    AT    THE 

SAME  TIME,  NEAR  ENOUGH  INTO   A  FIGHT  WITH 

BRAD   SIMONS  TO   MAKE   IT   INTERESTING. 

Brad  Simons,  grazier,  farmer  and  onetime  college 
man,  to  speak  in  the  modern  vernacular  of  the  street, 
"saw  his  finish,"  in  matters  pertaining  to  love  and  mat- 
rimony, so  long  as  William  "White  stood  in  his  way.  It 
would  be  difficult,  as  Brad  very  well  knew,  to  dislodge 
the  literary  wooer  from  the  favor  of  De  Braddoek. 

When  Simons  left  the  jail  after  his  unsuccessful  in- 
terview with  John  Braddoek,  he  was  in  a  mood  to  take 
fire  at  anything  that  continued  to  elaborate  obstructions 
to  the  realization  of  his  mad  desire  for  Peter  Braddoek 's 
daughter.  Smarting  under  the  merited  sting  of  young 
Braddoek 's  indignant  and  just  repudiation  of  his  selfish 
and  unworthy  offer,  Simons,  proceeding  from  John's 
place  of  confinement,  perceived  William  White  standing 
in  front  of  the  office  of  the  attorney  at  law  whom  Uncle 
Peter  had  retained  to  defend  his  son.  The  cattleman 
crossed  the  street,  and  joined  his  rival  and  spoke  to  him. 
White  replied  civilly. 

Brad  was  still  nursing  the  embers  of  his  jealous  and 
vindictive  hatred  of  this  man,  who  had  before  now  open- 
ly stood  between  the  cattleman  and  De  Braddoek. 

"White,"  began  Simons,  in  a  seemingly  friendly 
manner,  "you've  been  a  pretty  good  soldier." 

"I've  done  the  best  I  could.  Brad,"  rejoined  the  one 
armed  ex-military  man. 

251 


252  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"Don't  you,  sometimes,  feel  as  if  you'd  like  to  have 
another  little  brush  with  the  enemy  ? ' '  said  Simons,  -with 
a  mean  glitter  in  his  eye,  and  edging  closer  to  Wliite. 

"No,  I've  had  my  share  of  fighting,"  said  White 
unsuspiciously, — "I  don't  believe  I  want  any  more." 

"True,  you  don't  care  to  fight  much,  do  you?" 
smoothly  retorted  the  other  man,  eying  his  unsuspecting 
companion  evillj^. 

William  White,  still  unconscious  of  any  hidden  mean- 
ing in  Brad's  speech,  looked  dowTi  at  the  armless  sleeve 
on  his  o\^Ta  right  side  and  up  again,  with  smiling  signifi- 
cance, into  his  companion's  face. 

"I'm  not  in  a  very  good  shape  to  try  it.  Brad,"  he 
returned  laughingly. 

Simons  observed  the  first  look. 

' '  True, — too  bad  about  your  arm, ' '  continued  he,  still 
preserving  an  air  of  apparently  friendly  concern,  and 
indicating  the  empty  sleeve  of  the  ex-army  man,  "or  you 
might  do  a  little  fighting,  even  yet,  on  occasion. 

White  said  he  regretted  his  soldierly  disability. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  pursued  Simons;  "guess  you 
weren  't  very  sorry  to  get  out  of  danger. ' ' 

The  ex-soldier  glanced,  a  second  time,  and  quickly 
into  the  speaker's  face.  Something  in  Simons'  remark 
finally  jarred  upon  him ;  but,  at  the  instant,  he  could 
not  tell  whether  it  was  a  slur  upon  his  courage  or  not, 
and  he  remained  silent,  gazing  passively  into  Brad 
Simons'  half  laughing  countenance.  Perhaps,  Simons 
was  joking.  It  never  occurred  to  White  to  suppose  that 
the  man  w'as  trying  to  fasten  a  quarrel  upon  him. 
White's  courage  was  not  questioned  by  those  who  kncAv 
him. 

"Say,  William,"  continued  the  cattle  dealer  abrupt- 
ly, as  though  the  idea  had  just  occurred  to  him,  "with 
that  arm,  or  want  of  one,  you  ought  to  go  in  for  congress". 


WHITE  "GETS  INTO  THE  GAME."        253 

They  might  overlook  general  unfitness,  and  take  you  for 
the  soldier  business."  Simons  was  still  smiling,  and  it 
was  even  now  impossible  to  determine  whether  he  was 
ridiculing  the  one-armed  man,  or  whether  he  was  indulg- 
ing in  a  humor  which,  to  say  the  least,  was  in  very  ques- 
tionable taste,  or  whether  he  was  really  serious. 

White  deemed  it  best,  at  this  point,  to  remark  with- 
out emotion  of  any  kind, 

"I  expect  they  would  have  to  overlook  a  good  many 
things  in  both  you  and  me.  Brad,  in  the  selections  of 
merit  and  v.orth,"  and  the  writer,  in  his  turn,  smiled 
good  naturedly 

"Very  good — very  good,"  laughed  Simons  loudly 
and  affectedly;  "I  suspect  they  might  even  overlook 
your  literature,"  and  Brad  Simons  continued  to  laugh 
with  apparently  even  greater  good  nature,  and  in  seem- 
ingly increased  appreciation  of  his  own  wit. 

William  White,  on  his  side,  likewise  laughed  good 
humoredly. 

"It  would  be  a  severe  test  of  the  forbearance  of  the 
suffragists  of  this  district,  I  don't  doubt,"  said  the  lit- 
erary man,  entering  complacently  into  the  conceit  of  his 
companion. 

"Frankly,"  continued  Simons  assuming  a  manner  of 
confidential  concern,  ' '  I  don 't  suppose,  at  all  events,  that 
you  much  object  to  anything — one  arm,  or  anything  else 
— so  long  as  you  are  let  stay  at  home  with  'The  girl  you 
left  behind  you,'  and  spend  your  time  laying  around 
with  old  Braddock's  daughter,"  and  Brad  laughed 
again. 

"Mr.  Simons,"  replied  William  White,  made  sud- 
denly conscious  that  Simons  had  invaded  ground  of 
sacred  privacy — a  ground  on  w^hich  this  man,  now  stand- 
ing before  him,  and  himself  could  never  meet  in  the 
troubled  motives  and  instincts  unhappily  urging  Simons 


254  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

on, — "Mr.  Simons,"  repeated  William  White,  "it  is  to 
be  hoped  that  you  fully  measure  the  meaning  of  all  you 
are  saying.  I  feel  regret  to  add,  however,  that  your  last 
observation  and,  in  fact,  the  prolonged  jest  upon  my 
missing  arm,  are  in  poor  taste." 

If  Brad  Simons'  intention  was  to  precipitate  hostil- 
ity between  himself  and  De's  lover,  this  was  his  oppor- 
tunity. He,  too,  was  no  coward.  It  might  have  been 
more  politic  to  avoid  an  open  quarrel  with  his  rival ;  but 
few  stop  to  think  when  their  animosity  is  aroused,  and 
Brad's  was  to  a  passionate  and  implacable  degree! 

Trouble  was  averted,  for  the  moment,  by  the  appear- 
ance upon  the  sidewalk,  where  the  two  belligerents  were 
standing,  of  Benjamin  Grigscomb,  the  lawyer  of  lynch- 
ing fame,  whom  Farmer  Braddock  had  employed  in  the 
defense  of  John,  and  who  now  came  from  his  office  in 
front  of  which  Brad  Simons  and  William  Wliite  had 
been  standing,  and  addressed  the  two  in  terms  of  friend- 
ly greeting.  The  lawyer  had  caught  White's  reference 
to  his  missing  arm. 

"Billy,"  said  Grigscomb,  "they  say  you  can  do  as 
much  with  that  one  arm  of  yours  as  an  ordinary  man 
can  with  two." 

"I've  just  been  trying  to  convince  my  friend,  here, 
of  his  loss  in  respect  of  the  prospect  of  a  little  skirmish," 
said  Simons,  unable  to  resist  the  malicious  impulse  to 
give  his  adversary  a  sly  and  as  he  thought  a  safe  thrust. 

"I  expect,"  remarked  White  in  his  quietest  and  best 
manner,  "that  Mr.  Simons  is  not  advised  how  near  this 
skirmish  is  at  hand,  or  how  gladly  I  shall  meet  the  odds 
or  accept  the  advantages  attempted  to  be  taken  of  a  one 
armed  man."    White  concluded  his  remark  smilingly. 

"I  say,  Grigscomb,"  exclaimed  Brad  Simons  turning 
hastily  to  the  attorney,  ' '  it  may  be  possible  I  am  on  the 


WHITE  "GETS  INTO  THE  GAME."        255 

track  of  an  alibi  for  John  Braddock,  whatever  is  the 
guilt  or  innocence  of  the  other  man  Bolers." 

"Evidence  of  such  a  nature,"  replied  the  lawyer, 
earnestly  and  unreservedly,  "would  be  very  acceptable 
— vital,  Simons.    Do  you  mean — ?" 

"I  don't  know  exactly  what  I  mean,  just  now,"  in- 
terrupted Simons,  ' '  but  I  have  heard  of  someone  who  is 
thought  to  know  something,"  went  on  Brad  non-com- 
mittally;  "and,  as  you  are  sure  of  my  interest,  Grigs- 
comb,  in  your  client,  you  can  feel  perfectly  safe  that  I 
will  find  the  party,  if  it  is  possible,  or  she — he  exists," 
Brad  completed  his  sentence  in  some  confusion,  and 
glanced  searchingly  at  Yv''hite.  His  manner,  however, 
passed  unnoticed  by  his  companions. 

"Can't  you  tell  me  the  name?  We'll  summons  the 
witness,"  persisted  Grigscomb. 

"The  trouble  is,  I  don't  know,"  returned  Brad,  who 
evidently  had  his  own  reasons,  at  this  instant,  for  inter- 
jecting the  element  of  a  scheme  of  alibi  for  John  Brad- 
dock  into  the  situation. 

"I  don't  mind  telling  you,  Simons,  that  the  kind  of 
evidence  you  have  alluded  to  might  save  the  life  or  lib- 
erty of  our  friend  John  Braddock,"  impressively  ob- 
served Lawyer  Grigscomb,  "so  you  will  not  neglect  to 
keep  us  advised?" 

"I  expect,"  rejoined  the  cattleman  evasively,  "to 
know  more  in  a  day  or  two.  You  can  look  to  hear  from 
me,  then." 

"Well,  Brad,"  said  the  attornej^  familiarly,  "don't 
keep  us  waiting  too  long,"  and  with  that  the  topic 
rested.  "And,  now,  gentlemen,  in  my  oiSce,  I  have 
some  unusually  fine — ahem! — "  coughed  the  lawyer 
discreetly, — "vail  you  join  me?" 

Both  Brad  Simons  and  William  White  declined  the 
implied  invitation  to  drink  with  the  hospitably  inclined 


256  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

barrister,  Wliite  thanking  the  lawyer  politely,  and  Si- 
mons supplementing  his  o\\ti  declination  with, 
"Next  time,  Grigscomb — next  time." 
"Gentlemen,"  then  said  the  counsellor  affably,  "I 
wish  you  both  a  pleasant  good  day,"  and  moved  off. 

Simons  and  White  left  standing  alone  eyed  each 
other  pretty  much  as  two  gladiators  might  be  supposed 
to  do  while  waiting  for  an  unguarded  moment,  on  the 
part  of  the  adversary,  in  which  to  begin  an  attack. 
White  saw  clearly,  now,  that  Simons  had  deliberately 
provoked  an  encounter.  It  was  as  easy  for  the  one- 
armed  soldier  to  perceive  the  cause  of  his  enemy's  hos- 
tiliy.  The  writer  determined  for  De's  sake  to  have  no 
quarrel  which,  in  any  way,  could  ever  be  said  to  have 
been  begun  on  her  account.  While  White  stood  care- 
fully regarding  the  face  of  the  man  before  him.  Brad 
Simons'  thoughts  were,  also,  busy. 

The  latter  had  been  given  time,  during  the  course  of 
Lawyer  Grigscomb 's  restraining  presence,  to  see,  in 
cooler  moments,  the  folly  and  impolitic  mistake  of  en- 
gaging in  a  street  fight  -R-ith  White,  as  much  on  account 
of  the  usual  unamiable  notoriety  of  such  a  proceeding  as 
on  account  of  the  disadvantage  he  himself  would  labor 
under,  in  the  popular  judgment,  in  having  forced  an 
altercation  upon  a  maimed  man. 

In  a  low  voice  William  White  spoke : 

"I  think  this  matter  has  gone  far  enough.  I'm  sure 
you  do.    I  am  going  over  to  the  hotel. ' ' 

"I  guess,"  returned  Bradford  Simons,  "I'll  be  go- 
ing the  other  way. ' ' 

"I  hope  we  part  as  friends,"  said  Wliite. 

"Oh,  yes,"   replied  Simons,   with  a  peculiar,   hard  „ 
look  on  his  face;  "yes,  of  course, — friends,  of  course." 

"Good  day,"  said  White,  and  crossed  the  street. 


WHITE  "GETS  INTO  THE  GAME."        257 

"Good  day,"  said  Simons,  remaining  stationary, 
and  gazing  in  silence  after  the  retiring  figure. 

As  the  departing  writer  reached  the  opposite  side  of 
the  way,  the  cattleman  continued  to  gaze  after  him. 
"Without  removing  his  eyes  from  White's  receding  form, 
and  much  as  if  he  were  driving  his  own  cattle  and  steers 
into  the  shambles  and  had  one  especially  selected  for 
vindictive  slaughter,  he  ejaculated  hoarsely  under  his 
breath, 

* '  Damn  you  ! ' ' 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


BOB     LIKKUM     MAKES     AN     APPOINTMENT     UNDER     RATHER 
CURIOUS    AND    UNEXPECTED    CIRCUMSTANCES. 

While  Brad  Simons  was  approaching  a  state  promis- 
ing its  own  kind  of  troubles  for  William  White,  the 
picturesque  Smoky  Billings  was  entertaining,  with  ihe 
most  praiseworthy  and  well  meaning  intentions,  a  pur- 
pose affording  a  prospect  of  an  equal  and  unlimited 
amount  of  unrest  for  the  literary  and  former  military 
character.  ]\Ir.  Billings  was  endeavoring  to  inspire  Bob 
Likkum  wdth  the  notion  that,  in  White,  was  the  future 
savior  of  the  political  destinies  of  a  common  and  be- 
nighted land.  In  other  words,  as  Smoky  put  it,  ' '  Mister 
White  ought  to  go  to  congress."  This  extraordinary 
outburst  of  good  will,  and  extreme  of  grateful  and  last- 
ing appreciation  of  the  happily  unconscious  William 
were  enthusiastically  prompted  by  the  undoubted  and 
deserved  kindness  with  which  the  writer  had  treated  the 
former  tramp;  now  comfortably  employed,  through 
William  White's  good  offices,  at  White's  boarding  place. 
(The  finances  of  White  had  been  much  restricted  by  the 
foreclosure  of  the  mortgage  on  his  farm — an  event  re- 
sulting from  the  bank  robbery — and  he  had  very  little 
of  his  own  to  offer  his  faithful  admirer  and  friend.  A 
small  sum  in  cash  was  all  that  yet  remained  to  the 
struggling  writer;  and  the  hopes  of  future  success  Avith 
his  pen  spelled  the  rest.)  When  Billings  first  proposed 
"Billy"  for  preferment  to  the  inconceivable  heights  of 
congressional  honors,  Mr.  Likkum  received  the  idea  with 

258 


BOB  ]\IAKES  AN  APPOINTMENT.  259 

a  profoundly  skeptical  view.  "What  could  a  feller 
with  yaller  hair  an'  a  po'try  writin'  gift  do  where  things 
hed  ter  be  done?"  was  Robert's  sage  comment.  It  next 
struck  the  country  luimorist,  that  things  were  not  alwaj^s 
done  in  congress  to  such  an  extent  as  to  cause  much  loss 
of  sleep,  on  the  part  of  the  doers;  and,  in  that  saving 
grace  of  the  case,  it  might,  after  all,  be  just  the  sort  of 
tremendous  exertion  to  which  "Billy"  was  especially 
adapted.  Though  Likkinn  had  no  ill  will  to  "the  liter- 
ary genius,"  but  ratlier  liked  the  latter  personally,  this 
last  conclusion  seemed  to  offer  to  the  comedian  the 
natural  settlement  of  two  hopeless  questions.  So,  with- 
out much  serious  thought  one  way  or  the  other.  Bob 
Likkum  was  the  first  to  good  naturedly  promise  support 
of  Smoky  Billings'  candidate.  It  could  not  possibly 
have  been  foreseen  what  farreaching  and  important 
sequel  was  to  conclude  the  half  humorous  and  half 
slighting  consideration  given  this  suggested  representa- 
tion of  their  interests  at  AVashington. 

Jason  Jump  had  already  been  outspoken  for  Benja- 
min Grigscomb  to  represent  the  party  opposed  to  that 
of  the  foregoing  group  of  political  workers,  and  with 
which  Jump,  although  comparatively  a  newcomer  in  that 
congressional  district  and  in  the  state,  had  succeeded  in 
effectively  connecting  himself.  The  instincts  which  in- 
spired this  last  named  and  rebellious  soldier  of  fortune 
made  him  particularly  hostile  to  those  things  of  civil 
life  which  William  White  espoused  with  all  the  ardor  of 
a  dreamer  and  an  idealist,  a  poet  and  a  scholar ;  and  the 
naturally  keen  and  penetrating  mind  of  the  once  coun- 
try editor,  sharpened  by  its  merciless  and  astounding 
clash  with  the  existing  forces  of  the  day,  contrary  to 
Bob  Likkum 's  estimate  of  White,  instantly  appraised  at 
its  true  value  the  intelligence,  honesty  and  conscience  in 
the  soldier  and  writer — here  was  a  man  who,  even  Jason 


260  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

Jump  knev/,  would,  were  he  ever  placed  where  such  ser- 
vice could  be  successfully  performed,  fearlessly  and 
capably  serve  the  people  and  his  country  Jason  Jump 
had  needed  such  service  once  himself;  but,  having  been 
in,  what  seemed  to  him,  a  manner  hopelessly  turned  into 
the  present  bitter  course  of  reprisal,  he  stood,  in  his  own 
perverted  and  melancholy  sense,  irretrievably  committed 
— he  no  longer  lived  in  nor  breathed  the  atmosphere  of 
the  old  political  days,  save  in  its  corruption,  and  failed 
to  accurately  estimate  the  virtue  of  his  surroundings  save 
in  its  antagonism  to  the  law  of  retaliation.  Heads  that 
opposed  him  were  made  to  knock,  and  this  he  proposed 
to  do  whenever  and  wherever  he  found  them.  It  had 
been  made,  by  his  persecutors  and  betrayers,  his  mission 
to  get  the  better  of  government,  law  and  human  society. 

So  far  as  Bob  Likkum  was  concerned,  had  he  fully 
understood  subsequent  events  affecting  criminal  control 
of  the  ballot  and  the  interests  of  his  neighbors  in  gov- 
ernmental concerns  in  his  vicinity,  that  doubting  though 
genial  humorist  and  critic  would,  as  soon  as  another, 
have  arrayed  himself  on  the  side  of  anyone  promising 
hope  of  relief  from  the  despotism  of  corrupt  and  enslav- 
ing politicians.  Evil  and  designing  men  had  no  place  in 
Likkum 's  list  of  workers  in  the  vineyard.  In  what  fol- 
lowed Smoky  Billings'  earnest  and  sincere  introduction 
of  his  benefactor  into  the  political  affairs  of  that  locality, 
Robert  Likkum  and,  indeed,  many  others  of  a  formerly 
skeptical  and  depreciating  view  of  literature  as  a  prac- 
tical means  of  benefiting  the  material  interests  of  a  com- 
munity were  destined  to  receive  a  new  and  valuable  ad- 
dition to  their  substantial  stock  of  knowledge. 

Jason  Jump's  own  position,  and  that  of  his  kind, 
singularly  enough  was  the  first  to  give  a  serious  impetus 
to  the  idea  of  running  White  for  a  seat  in  the  national 
house  of  representatives.    The  uncompi-omising  hostility 


BOB  MAKES  AN  APPOINTMENT.  261 

of  Jump  and  his  associates  gave  Likkura  and  those  of 
his  class  their  first  realization  of  William  White's  value 
and  merit.  Jump,  served  by  his  adherents  political  and 
otherwise  through  a  species  of  fear  which  the  unscrupu- 
lous leader  had  lost  no  time  in  inspiring  them  with,  Wfis 
correspondingly  disliked  and  distrusted  by  those  to 
whom  he  was  opposed;  and,  to  the  "best  meaning  ele- 
ment," he  afforded  an  object  of  complete,  thorough  and 
unqualified  opposition.  With  Benjamin  Grigscomb  as 
his  candidate, — a  demagogue  who,  though  a  successful 
practitioner  of  the  law,  was  a  tricky,  shifty  and  unre- 
liable factor  in  the  varied  affairs  and  interests  of  his 
region, — Jason  Jump  had  made  considerable  headway 
towards  the  success  of  his  design  to  control  the  political 
fortunes  of  the  congressional  district  in  which  destiny 
had  cast  his  own  lot.  It  is  not  apparent,  in  any  way, 
that  Grigscomb  b}'  direct  complicity,  was  allied  with 
the  unsavory  doings  of  the  instruments  of  revenge  em- 
ployed by  the  outlaw  leader  in  the  members  of  his 
criminal  organization ;  but  Jump  and  others  who  knew 
Benjamin  Grigscomb  felt,  at  all  times,  confident  in  an 
appeal  to  the  crafty  lawyer's  legal  talents,  where  any 
interest  requiring  rescue  from  lawless  consequences  was 
at  stake. 

William  White  early  disclaimed  responsibility  for 
Billings'  advocacy  of  the  writer  as  a  possible  national 
representative  and,  while  manifesting  a  disposition  to 
spare  Smoky's  feelings,  announced  himself  as  having  no 
ambition  for  congress.  He  laughed  good  naturedly  at  a 
revival,  by  Brad  Simons,  of  the  latter 's  jesting  remarks 
concerning  the  forebearance  of  the  district  in  the  matter 
of  the  writer's  literary  productions;  and  met  Bob  Lik- 
kum's  well  meaning  and  humorous  sallies  as  to  the 
worthlessness  of  literature  and  congress  collectively  and 
in  particular,  with  the  greatest  possible  relish  and  jollr 


262  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

good  fellowship.  He  knew  Jump  but  slightly;  and, 
when  that  wilv  campaigner  approached  the  literary  man 
ynth  the  appearance  of  a  serious  acceptance  of  the  lat- 
ter's  reported  bearing  to  a  future  congressional  nomi- 
nation, White  was  more  impressed  with  the  implied 
mark  of  present  personal  consideration,  than  he  was  with 
any  thoughts  of  future  national  selection. 

"You  would  make  a  good  race,  Mr.  Wliite,"  sincere- 
ly observed  Jason  Jump.  Jump  reasoned  that,  had 
White  a  serious  following,  his  nomination  would  supply 
a  most  formidable  candidate,  in  principle  and  war 
record ;  but,  having  heard  the  light  and  flippant  manner 
in  which  the  subject  of  any  political  connection  of  the 
writer  was  referred  to,  he  felt  equally  satisfied  that  the 
native  strength  and  inherent  personal  desirability  of 
William  White  would  be  lost. 

White,  once  more,  politely  expressed  himself  as 
properly  sensible  of  Mr.  Jump's  compliment;  but  was 
correspondingly  reserved  as  to  any  other  issue  present 
or  to  come. 

The  freebooter  chieftain,  out  of  disguise,  perceived 
that  "his  man"  was  conscious  of  the  jocular  meaning  of 
the  principals  of  the  latter 's  "party  friends(?)  ;"  and 
the  astute  politician,  sharpened  by  the  faculty  of  the 
editor,  saw  another  danger:  Should  White,  by  his 
natural  self  respect,  be  able  to  hold  out  against  being 
placed  in  a  false  position,  his  real  worth,  by  some  acci- 
dent, might  express  itself,  become  recognized  and  finally 
erect  an  insurmountable  barrier  to  the  outlaw.  Slightly 
disconcerted,  the  manager  of  Benjamin  Grigscomb's 
congressional  interests  coughed  a  little  behind  his  hand, 
looked  at  his  watch,  and  was  about  to  pretend  an  engage- 
ment when,  at  tliis  moment,  the  two  were  joined  by 
Brad  Simons.  William  White  instinctively  felt  that  a 
tense  and  imminent  danger  of  some  kind  had  suddenly 


BOB  MAKES  AN  APPOINTMENT.  263 

found  a  missing  link,  and  was  drawing  its  deadly  coils 
about  him,  relentlessly  and  surely  .  .  .  He  glanced 
casually  around.  The  action  showed,  standing  a  short 
distance  away  near  the  public  square  of  T ,  the  fig- 
ures of  Bob  Likkiim  and  Smoky  Billings,  in  amiable  and 
social  companionship.  Not  far  from  these  stood  Uncle 
Peter  Braddock,  just  starting,  however,  to  move  away. 
A  few  others  were  scattered  about,  chatting,  gossiping 
and  idling  their  time  away.  His  glance  was  observed  by 
Simons  as  well  as  Jason  Jump. 

"Oh,"  laughed  Simons,  "not  now,  White.  Caesar 
will  not  get  it,  this  time,  in  the  forum. ' ' 

The  ex-soldier,  by  an  intuition,  looked  quickly  from 
Brad  to  Jump  to  see  what  understanding  existed  be- 
tween the  two  men,  and  caught  the  briefest  flash  of 
intelligence  pass  from  one  to  the  other.  Without  turn- 
ing, he  became  conscious  of  Likkum  and  Smoky  Billings 
sauntering  toward  him.  Should  he,  at  that  moment,  be 
in  danger  of  a  personal  attack  from  Simons,  for  some 
reason  and  in  some  way  aided  and  abetted  by  Jump,  he, 
at  least,  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  tried  friends  at 
hand. 

"Caesar,"  said  White,  "was  done  to  death,  in  the 
public  place,  by  friends." 

"Politically,"  smiled  Brad  Simons,  "you  are  in  the 
hands  of  yours." 

"I  am,"  returned  the  object  of  the  other's  wit, 
"and,"  added  significantly,  "will  put  Antony  to  work 
before,  instead  of  after,  taking." 

Bob  Likkiim  and  Smoky  Billings,  at  that  instant, 
joined  the  three. 

"What's  the  yarn?"  asked  Bob.  "You  fellers  look 
's  if  ye'd  seen  Humpty  Dumply, "  this  illustration  seem- 
ing, to  Bob's  view,  as  expressive,  in  humorous  irony,  of 
the  appearances  of  the  faces  of  those  he  had  just  joined; 


264  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

for  their  countenances  were  set  and  stern.  William 
White  had  put  into  his  final  speech  a  note  of  prepara- 
tion for  the  struggle  to  come  between  himself  and  the 
forces  of  the  cattleman  and  Jason  Jump,  that  had 
brought  a  consciousness  and  anticipation  to  the  breasts 
of  all. 

"Your  man's  a  threat,"  cried  Simons  gaily,  "and 
a  menace,  with  his  sharp  steel  pen,  to  the  nation's  for- 
tresses on  the  towering  heights  above  you ! ' ' 

"Aw,  come  off  yer  perch,"  growled  Likkum.  "What 
yo'  givin'  us?" 

"He'll  make  a  better  man  'n  yours,  if  he'll  run," 
said  Billings,  without  excitement,  but  edging  in  a  little 
as  he  spoke. 

"  'A  Daniel  come  to  judgement!'  "  exclaimed  Sim- 
ons.    "A  rival  political  manager.  Jump." 

But  Grigscomb's  "boss"  knew  politics,  and  said 
nothing.  Sincerity,  wherever  found,  is  a  powerful  and, 
in  the  long  long  run,  usually  unconquerable  ally;  and 
Brad's  accomplice  was  quick  to  discover  sincerity  in  the 
words  of  Smoky  Billings. 

"Say,  Simons,"  drawled  Bob  Likkum  who,  now 
that  he  saw  the  drift  of  Brad's  stinging  and  insulting 
inuendoes,  was  up  in  arms  not  only  for  the  "under  dog 
in  the  fight,"  but  for  "Billy"  personally,  "/  don't  think 
much  o'  Grigscomb,  do  you?" 

"He  has  a  recognized  place  of  practical  use  in  the 
community,"  replied  Simons,  impersonally. 

"You  mean  Billy,  here,  hain't,"  said  Likkum. 
"Huh!" 

"I  don't  say,"  said  Brad,  shifting  Ms  look  from  the 
face  of  Smoky  Billings,  where  it  had  been  resting,  and 
allowing  it  to  sweep  past  White  to  Likkum 's  resolved 
and  composed  visage. 


BOB  MAKES  AN  APPOINTMENT.  265 

"That's  whut  ye  mean,  though,"  retorted  Bob,  very 
quietly  and  determinedly  pressing  home. 

"Take  it,  then,  as  you  please,  Likkum,"  calmly  re- 
joined Bob's  adversary,  without  removing  his  eyes  from 
Likkum 's. 

"He's  a  friend  o'  mine,"  said  White's  champion. 

"Is  he?"  said  Simons  with  a  sneer. 

"Yes,  an'  a  better  man  than  you  er  Grigscomb  ever 
dared  be." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  scowled  the  cattleman. 

"Whut  I  say,"  said  the  other  quietly.  Likkum 
waited  a  moment.     "You  heerd  me?"  Bob  said. 

"You —  you  and  your  coming  distinguished  repre- 
sentative," looking  at  Wliite, — "bah!"  ejaculated  Si- 
mons, abruptly  breaking  off;  "you — the  whole  lot  of  you 
— ain't  worth  wasting  time  on." 

"William  White  was  a  brave  soldier,"  replied  Lik- 
kum composedly ;  ' '  and  you  're  a  damned  liar. ' ' 

Brad  Simons  struck  a  quick,  short  arm  blow,  that 
the  speaker  dodged.  The  others  interfered.  Jason  Jump, 
recognizing  prudence,  without  a  word  led  Simons  firmly 
away,  and  thus  put  a  final  end  to  the  controversy. 

At  the  same  time,  "Me  an'  Billy,''  called  Bob  Lik- 
kum, "  '11  meet  ye,  any  time,  an'  glad  ter  see  ye,  to 
Washington,  in  his  congurshunal  headquarters,"  and 
Robert  Likkum  was  out  for  William  White  for  congress. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


SMOKY  BILLINGS   DREAMS   A  DREAM. 

"It  can  be  did,"  Bob  Likkum  said  emphatically  to 
Smoky  Billings.  ''I  tell  ye  it  kin."  Likkum 's  fighting 
blood  was  aroused,  after  his  encounter  with  Brad  Simons ; 
and  now  he  was  determined  that  his  friend  William 
White  should  not  only  have  the  race  for  congress,  but  be 
elected  as  well.  The  chances  were  generally  against  the 
party  that  White,  should  he  accept  a  nomination,  would 
represent;  but,  to  offset  this,  Bob's  man,  at  a  time  when 
it  counted  for  much,  had  the  prestige  of  a  good  record  in 
the  Civil  War.  "I'm  a  delegate,"  said  Robert,  "to 
that  'air  convention;  an'  I  think  Billy  kin  be  nomy-- 
nated." 

If  anything  could  have  raised  the  speaker  in  Smoky 
Billings'  estimation,  this  unqualified  espousal  of  the 
cause  of  William  White  would  have  had  that  effect; 
but  Bob  Likkum,  as  a  local  political  influence  of  consid- 
erable impor'tance,  already  enjoyed  not  only  a  fair  share 
of  Smoky's  approval  but  the  respect  and  confidence,  as 
well,  of  all  who  knew  him.  It  was  not  necessary,  there- 
fore, to  bid  for  Smoky  Billings'  favor  in  the  case  of  the 
doughty  humorist. 

"That  pirate  Brad  Simons,"  rejoined  Billings,  "  '11 
get  his  craft  raked  fore  and  aft,  afore  we  git  through 
Math  him."  The  ex-sailor  was,  by  this  time,  in  some  of 
"that  pirate's"  secrets,  in  a  way,  had  the  pirate  been 
informed,  that  would  have  caused  the  black  flag  of  his 
free  sailing  vessel  to  flutter  and  shake  with  certain  pre- 

266 


SMOKY  DREAMS  A  DREAM.      267 

monitory  symptoms  of  panic  before  suffering  itself  to 
be  ignominiously  hauled  douTi.  In  other  words,  Smoky 
had  not  been  idle;  "had  it  in  for"  Mr.  Simons,  and  that 
latter  misguided  gentleman  had  better  look  out. 

"Did  ye  see  Peter  Braddock  over  there,  jes'  now?" 
casually  inquired  Likkum,  directing  attention  to  the 
public  square,  whence  he  and  Billings  had  but  recently 
come. 

Wliite  had  gone  over  to  the  bank,  and  Bob  and 
Smoky  had  remained  on  the  scene  of  the  late  encounter 
with  Jason  Jump  and  Brad  Simons. 

Smoky  Billings  looked  around  at  the  place  where, 
but  a  moment  since,  Braddock  had  stood.  The  latter 
had  moved  away,  and  Likkum 's  companion  let  his  gaze 
travel  down  the  country  street.  "There  he  goes  inter 
the  post  office,  now,"  said  Billings. 

"Hi,  Peter,"  called  Bob.  Peter  Braddock  turned, 
and  Bob  hurried  over  to  meet  him. 

Smoky  Billings  was  left  alone. 

Smoky  was  but  a  common  sort  of  a  fellow,  after  all ; 
and,  so,  when  he  saw  De  and  Mother  Braddock  coming 
out  of  a  store,  where  they  had  been  doing  their  buying, 
he  felt  a  kind  of  shrinking  up,  for  he  had  not,  since  the 
lynching  experience, —  and,  of  course,  never  before, — 
seen  De  under  circumstances  where  he  felt  he  might  be 
privileged  to  actually  speak  to,  maybe  touch  the  hand, 
breathe  the  same  atmosphere  of,  his  divinity.  He  trem- 
bled at  the  thought.  She  was  so  beautiful,  so  young,  so 
enthralling  to  his  every  sense.  And  he  felt  that  he  might 
save  this  spirit  of  another  world  from  a  fate  as  threat- 
ening as  that  from  which  she  had  rescued  him,  when 
writhing  in  the  merciless  and  deadly  clutches  of  the 
mob.  De  was  coming  toward  him.  His  impulse  was  to 
turn  and  flee ;  but  he  was  held  to  the  spot.  Mother  Brad- 
dock, with  a  word  to  the  girl,  entered  another  store ;  and 


268  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

De  passed  on,  bent  upon  an  errand  of  her  own.  Smolc}' 
watched  her.  Something  fascinated  him.  He  had  a 
fear  of  constant  danger  surrounding  her.  She  might 
find  herself  in  some  coil  of  Simons'  devising,  at  any 
moment.  When  the  object  of  his  solicitude  had  passed 
out  of  sight,  around  a  corner  of  the  old  red  brick  court- 
house, Billings  suddenly  shook  himself  together  and 
started  after  her.  They  might  run  White  for  congress, 
and  do  anything  else  they  cared  to  do;  but,  hereafter, 
De  Braddock  was  to  have  a  guardian  who  never  slept, 
who  never  thought  of  reward,  who  never  rested  or  ate, 
without  knowing,  in  some  way,  that  she  was  safe  and 
secure  in  her  \argin  life.  It  was  a  beautiful  thing  to  see 
the  rough  sailorman,  with  his  rolling  gait  and  bulky 
figure,  plowing  the  main  in  the  wake  of  the  delicate  little 
clipper  built  form  of  his  idol. 

"Rope's  end  me!"  thought  Smoky  Billings;  "what 
port  's  she  bound  for,  now,  I  w^onder?" 

De  kept  on  her  way,  ignorant  of  the  larger  vessel 
under  whose  convoy  she  was  sailing  into  the  peaceful 
waters  of  Father  0 'Gorman's  haven.  As  she  stopped 
at  the  rectory  and  entered,  the  man  in  her  rear  took  from 
his  pocket  a  well  smoked  pipe ;  filled  it ;  lit  it ;  smoked, 
and  waited  like  a  patient  dog  (if  dogs  smoke  outside  the 
pages  of  "Mother  Goose"),  until  his  self  assumed  charge 
reappeared.  When,  after  a  spell  of  waiting  on  Smoky's 
part,  she  came  forth,  De  seemed  much  absorbed;  doubt- 
less having  come  from  a  visit  for  priestly  consolation,  in 
her  sore  trouble  about  John.  She  did  not  seem  to  notice 
the  form  of  a  man,  who  was  quietly  smoking  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  way;  and  proceeded  hurriedly, — for 
mother  would  be  expecting  her  return, — to  make  her 
way  into  the  outskirts  of  the  small  town,  where  was  the 
dwelling  place  of  Miss  Primvale,  here  former  teacher. 
It  was  getting  along  toward  the  middle  of  the  afternoon, 


SMOKY  DREAMS  A  DREAM.      269 

and  the  long  drive  home  had  yet  to  be  made.  There 
were,  in  her  present  way,  bits  of  open  fields  to  pass ;  and 
ramshackle,  tumbledown  buildings,  barns  and  miscella- 
neous evidences  of  unsettled  and  abandoned  living 
places.  Past  this,  a  little  ways,  was  ]\Iiss  Primvale's. 
De  was  of  a  fearless  nature,  totally  without  cowardice 
of  any  kind.  She  would  face  anything  from  a  spider 
or  a  mouse  to  an  unbroken  horse  or  a  mob  of  lynchers. 

"See  here,  my  fine  lady,"  said  a  voice,  breaking  in 
on  her  rapid,  self  absorbed  Avalk,  ' '  ye  look  f u  'st  class ; — 
I  jes'  think  I'll  take  a  bite." 

De  looked  around,  with  a  swift,  contained  manner. 
She  saw,  without  before  perceiving  her  locality,  that 
she  had  come  abreast,  in  a  lonely  spot,  of  a  dilapidated, 
disused  stable.  Out  of  this  had  issued  the  figure  of  a 
man,  wearing  a  piece  of  black  cloth  across  his  eyes, 
which  now  gleamed  with  terrifying  light  through  holes 
of  vision.     The  woman  did  not  scream. 

"I  am  going  on,"  she  said,  with  no  abatement  of  her 
gait. 

"Now,  sweetheart,  I  don't  think  ye  be,"  chuckled 
her  waylayer. 

De  said  nothing  and  liastened  her  steps.  The  ruffian, 
with  a  stride,  was  at  her  side. 

"Why,  birdie,"  he  exclaimed,  encircling  her  with 
his  arm,  "without  a — ?"  he  got  no  further.  Someone 
sprang  into  the  road  from  the  unfcnced  field  in  which 
the  barn  stood ;  and,  with  a  groan,  the  would-be  violator, 
beneath  a  crushing  blow,  fell  heavily  to  the  earth.  The 
rescued  girl  stood  gazing  into  the  resolute  and  illumi- 
nated countenance  of  Smoky  Billings. 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad,"  cried  De. 

"So  —  so  be  I,  miss, ' '  simply  replied  the  man. 

"Just  in  time,"  said  the  girl,  breathing  quickly. 

"Jest    about    the    right    time,"   assured    the   sailor, 


270  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

swinging  a  mortal-looking  club  above  the  prostrate  form 
of  De's  assailant,  as  the  latter  stirred  from  the  unspar- 
ing blow  Smoky  had  dealt  him,  a  moment  before. 

"Oh,  let  him  go,"  urged  De. 

"Miss,"  said  Smoky,  even  at  this  moment  letting 
himself  thrill  beneath  the  wonderful  eyes  he  saw  looking 
into  his,  "I  think  it's  best  not." 

"Oh,  do,"  in  her  pleading,  insisted  the  other.  "He 
did  no  harm.  You  —  you,"  she  added,  "I  believe,  are 
the  poor  fellow  they  tried  to  lynch." 

Still  thrilling  in  the  beams  of  supernal  glow  emanat- 
ing from  something  he  conceived  to  be  eyes.  Smoky 
admitted  that  such  pleasure  was  his. 

"Pleasure?"  wonderingly  questioned  De. 

The  figure  on  the  earth  groaned  dismally. 

"Yes,  miss,  for  you  saved  me." 

"Oh,"  and  in  spite  of  herself,  the  blush  that  crept 
over  her  face  testified  to  her  smiling  confusion. 

Smoky  gave  it  up.  He  was  down  and  out.  If  he 
could  only  die  for  her ! 

'"And  your  name  is  —  is  —  Billings,  I  believe?"  said 
De. 

"Sich  they  calls  me,"  said  the  man,  hat  in  hand, — 
"Smoky  Billings." 

"I  am  going  into  the  house,  there.  If  you  care  to 
wait  about,  Mr.  Billings, ' '  said  De,  ' '  you  —  you, ' '  glanc- 
ing at  the  man  on  the  ground, — ' '  you  might  see  me  back 
to  town,  if  you  would." 

Would  he ! 

"Will  you  wait?" 

The  man  said  he  would,  and  once  more  gave  it  up ! 
It  was  all  he  could  do. 

And  De  was  gone. 

Billings  stirred  the  thing  at  his  feet  with  the  toe  of 
his  boot.    "Git  up,"  he  said. 


SMOKY  DREAMS  A  DREAM.      271 

The  defeated  ruffian  opened  his  eyes. 

''Git  up,"  repeated  Smoky. 

The  other  struggled  to  his  feet,  uncertainly. 

"Git  out,"  said  Billings,  with  a  kick  that  sent  the 
fellow  staggering  ten  feet  away. 

And  he  got. 

"What  j\Iother  Braddock  would  have  done  when  she 
heard  of  the  outrage  to  which  her  daughter  had  been 
subjected,  had  she,  at  that  moment,  had  her  hands  on 
the  perpetrator,  Avould  far  outstrip  the  impatient  desire 
to  tell.  And,  of  a  truth,  Peter  Braddock,  as  became  him, 
grew  grave  in  the  telling  ]\Iartha  of  these  dangers  of 
which  he  had  before  reminded  her.  The  country,  with- 
out success,  was  scoured  for  the  offender;  and  Smoky 
said  nothing  about  his  deliberately  releasing  the  miscre- 
ant at  someone's  "slightest  wish  and  pleasure." 

Smoky  was  in  a  dream,  certain  rapt  portions  of 
which  kept  sacredly  to  himself  none  other  might  ever 
know;  but  other  suggestions  from  that  dreaming  state 
communicated  themselves  to  William  White,  with  whom 
Billings  lost  no  time  in  conferring.  The  seafaring  bene- 
ficiary of  the  literary  man  had  drawn  closer  and 
closer  to  De's  lover  w-ho,  at  last,  found  it  an  unrestricted 
and  grateful  privilege  to  discuss  with  the  faithful  and 
devoted  subject  of  De  Braddock 's  rescue  from  the  lynch- 
ers the  general  ground  of  his  own  apprehension  concern- 
ing the  part  the  outlaws  must  have  in  De's  life,  o\\ang 
to  the  singular  nature  of  the  broken  utterances  of  Rachel 
Bolers  —  words  that  had  resulted  in  having  White  forc- 
ibly conveyed  to  the  outlaws'  cave. 

"If  it's  her  'at  needs  the  secrets  uv  them  murderers 
of  the  high  seas,"  said  Smoky  Billings,  "they'll  give 
'em  up  to  me,  an'  their  cave,  an'  all  they've  got.  God 
Almighty,  ]\Ir.  White,  couldn't  keep  me  back." 


272  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"I  don't  think  he'll  try,  Smoky,"  said  White, 
smiling. 

"You're  the  only  one  'at's  good  enough  fur  'er," 
pursued  the  impassioned  friend  of  De  Braddock  and 
William  White. 

"Better  leave  that  out,"  rejoined  the  other. 

"We'll  elect  ye  both  fur  congress,"  continued  the 
irrepressible  Billings,  with  an  ecstatic  wave  of  his  hand. 

"And  so  you  think  one  wouldn't  be  enough  to  pun- 
ish?"  suggested   Wliite,   mildly. 

"Not  near  enough,"  grinned  Smoky. 

"Well,  we'll  see,"  replied  the  menaced  writer,  sim- 
ply. "But,  Smoky,  if  we  don't  look  sharp,  we'll  have 
no  congress  for  anybody,  so  far  as  —  she  is  concerned. ' ' 

Technical  nautical  language  referring  to  the  eyes 
and  limbs  and  other  portions  of  the  anatomy  of  the 
outlaws,  and  being  recorded  in  the  speech  of  White's 
resolved  friend,  but  unsuitable  for  publication,  ex- 
pressed a  determination,  on  the  part  of  Smoky  Billings, 
to  thwart  the  evil  intentions  of  those  conspiring  against 
De  Braddock 's  peace  and  safety,  or  very  cheerfully, 
eagerly,  gladly  die  in  the  attempt,  day  or  night,  through 
all  eternity ! 

"Billings,"  said  William  White,  soberly,  still  recall- 
ing the  experiences  of  the  cave  and  Rachel  Bolers'  use 
of  Simons'  name,  "Brad  Simons  is  mixed  up  in  this 
pursuit  of  —  her  ? ' ' 

' '  It  wa  'n  't  Simons  'at  waylaid  'er, ' '  hastily  supplied 
Billings.  "That  I  knoivs."  Smoky  pinched  his  nose 
and  himself  into  a  state  of  profound  thoughtfulness,  and 
bored  his  employer's  eyes  with  a  continual  and  intent 
speculation  in  his  own  twinkling,  keen  and  shrewd  ones. 

"That  may  be,  but  his  influence  is  either  felt  or  she 
is,  otherwise,  in  the  greatest  danger  from  him." 

"Ain't  any  doubt  about  it,  at  all,"  said  Smoky. 


SMOKY  DREAMS  A  DREAIM.  273 

' '  And  none,  that  we  '11  uncover  him  ? ' ' 

"None,  at  all,"  proclaimed  White's  man,  emphatic- 
ally, with  a  picture  of  his  beloved  divinity  De  Braddock, 
in  his  soul,  waving,  as  an  angel  of  beauty  and  light,  him 
on  ahead! 

Without,  in  the  night,  the  distant  whippoorwill 
called  to  its  mate ;  and  a  nightingale,  finding  rest  on  its 
pilgrimage,  in  a  glade  nearby,  gurgled  its  bright  love 
song  to  the  woods  and  heart  of  solitude. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 


BILLINGS  AND  SIMONS    (LIMITED),  FURNISHERS  OP 
INTERESTING  AND  EXCITING  NEWS. 

The  evening  of  the  day  on  which  Uncle  Peter  and 

party  had  gone  to  T to  look  after  the  Kentucky 

relative,  saw  the  familiar  Braddock  red  wagon  return- 
ing to  the  farm.  The  country  vehicle  had  arrived  oppo- 
site Widow  Walmsey 's,  when  a  sudden  stoppage  of  the 
homeward  bound  company  occurred.  Widow  Walmsey 
was  at  her  gate,  manifesting,  through  various  compli- 
cated signals,  a  wish  to  "speak"  Uncle  Peter's  vessel. 
This  latter  outfit,  upon  coming  to  a  halt  and  being  re- 
lieved of  the  rattle  and  clank  of  laboring  machinery,  was 
hailed  by  the  friendly  ship,  which  Uncle  Peter  was  about 
"to  pass  in  the  night,"  ■\\dtli, 

"Do  tell  me,  Uncle  Peter,  what  'bout  your  relation 
Hiram?  Same  as  I  met,  that  time,  at  your  house,  ain't 
he  ?  Is  he  much  sick  ?  Was  it  him  ?  Did  you  bring  him 
along?     Say—?    And  John?" 

To  what  further  length  these  fev/  inquiries  directed 
in  the  search  of  knowledge,  by  the  fair  widow,  would 
have  continued,  had  not  interruption  transpired,  would 
be  impossible  to  say.  As  it  was,  the  fat  farmboy  Esau, 
at  this  instant,  announced  from  the  front  seat  of  the  red 
wagon,  in  a  flat  and  dogmatic  tone, 

"There's  Job  Sa'nders  to  the  "\Aander,"  the  effect  of 
which  speech  presented  to  the  minds  of  those  upon  the 
premises  the  view  of  a  gentleman  of  Mr.  "Sa'nders'  " 
personal  appearance  very  leisurely  displaying  himself, 

274 


BILLINGS  AND  SIMONS.  275 

within,  at  the  widow's  front  window,  between  himp  light 
and  the  outer  deepening  night.  lie  was  regaling  him- 
self with  a  flagon  of  refreshing  beverage  of  sort  unknown 
to  the  assembled  spectators;  and  which  goodly  drink 
thriving  Job  is  surmised  to  have  obtained,  and  strolled 
to  the  aforesaid  window  to  consume  and  witness  the  pro- 
ceedings going  on  without  at  one  and  the  same  time. 

"Well,"  retorted  Uncle  Peter,  allowing  his  pent  up 
disgust  with  the  guileless  Esau  to  find  sudden  and  ex- 
plosive vent,  "what  if  it  is,  ye  booby?" 

"Ain't  no  booby,  nuther,"  replied  Esau  in  a  world 
of  offense. 

"Ye  ought  to  be  in  a  loonytic  'sylum,  there's  where 
ye  ought  to  be,"  asserted  the  judicial  minded  Uncle 
Peter. 

' ' Oughtn 't, ' '  stoutly  denied  the  f armboy,  —  "ye 
knows  I  oughtn't,"  persisted  Esau,  as  though  preven- 
tion of  the  instant  confinement  of  his  fat  person  in  the 
nearest  retreat  for  the  afflicted  in  mind  depended  solely 
upon  the  character  of  defense  the  said  Esau  could  make, 
that  night,  in  the  red  wagon  halted  in  the  open  high- 
way. 

"Durned  ef  I  don't  think  ye  ought,"  added  Uncle 
Peter,  with  a  last  touch  of  decision. — "Bad,  Mis'  Walm- 
sey,"  continued  the  reprover  of  Esau;  "ye  see,  Hiram's 
thought  to  be  pooty  close  onto  nowhere,  't  all,"  and  the 
old  Hoosier  removed  his  hat,  and  passed  a  hand  over  his 
suit  of  thick,  iron  gray  hair. 

"Ye  mean,"  said  the  widow  in  a  tone  of  solicitude, 
''that  —  ?" 

"Yes,  widder,  ain't  much  chanst  of  his  pullin' 
through.  Guess  I'll  go  down,  ag'in,  in  the  mornin'.  As 
fur  John,  widder,  the  Lord  is  our  stay ! ' ' 

"Mighty  sorry,  Uncle  Peter,"  in  a  voice  of  compas- 


276  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

sionate  sjniipathy,  said  Mrs.  "Walmsey,  "  'bout  Hiram, 
an'  the  Lord  be  good  to  ye  'bout  John!" 

"Yes,  I  know  ye  be,"  simply  replied  the  farmer, 
from  the  wagon,  "an'  amen." 

It  was  this  touch  of  sympathy  and  consideration 
among  these  country  folk  that  gave  a  simple  genuine- 
ness to  their  characters ;  and,  at  all  times,  rendered  them 
helpful  and  neighborly  in  the  true  spirit  of  community. 

' '  Won 't  you  —  all  on  you  —  git  down,  a  minute  ? ' ' 
asked  the  widow  who,  without,  in  any  way  be  it  hoped, 
impairing,  in  the  minds  of  the  reader,  the  sincere  qual- 
ity of  her  hospitality,  it  will  yet  have  to  blushingly  be 
confessed  extended  her  invitation  not  without  giving  a 
fleeting  and  regretful  thought  to  the  loss  of  certain  vag- 
rant though  highly  proper  charms  of  solitary  enjoyment 
in  the  society  of  one  Job  Saunders  then  waiting  within 
the  house, — ' '  do,  now, —  come,  i\Iarthy,  do  get  out. ' ' 

White  had  already  descended  from  the  wagon,  hav- 
ing, in  arriving  at  the  widow's  door,  reached  his  own 
abiding  place. — The  widow  was  poor,  and  the  writer's 
small  board  money  was  a  boon  to  her. — William  White 
very  earnestly  joined  his  landlady  in  her  invitation  to 
the  farmer's  party  to  tarry  for  a  moment.  The  perfume 
of  the  sweet  smelling  honeysuckle,  at  the  corner  of  the 
house,  added  its  subtle  and  alluring  breath. 

Uncle  Peter  had  hesitated;  when  Wliite's  additional 
solicitations  increased  the  former's  inability  to  decide 
this  passing  question  of  natural  relaxation. 

"Mother,  what  d'  ye  say?"  propounded  the  farmer. 

"Jus'  ez  you  say,  Peter,"  was  Mother  Braddock's 
conclusion, — "ef  you  feel  like  it." 

There  was  certainly  a  waste  of  deliberations  in  re- 
spect of  one  member  of  the  red-wagon  party,  for  White 
had  taken  De's  hand,  and  the  rare  maid  already  stood 


BILLINGS  AND  SIMONS.  277 

appropriately  close  to  the  side  of  William  in  the  road- 
way. 

There  was  no  longer  any  demur  and  the  visitors  en- 
tered ]Mrs.  Walmsey's  cozy  parlor. 

Job  Saunders  received  with  anything  but  satisfac- 
tion the  entrance  into  AVidow  Walmsey's  home  of  the 
Braddock  contingent ;  and  sulked,  off  and  on,  in  a  corner, 
for  the  balance  of  the  evening,  indulging  beneath  his 
breath  in  profanity  enough  to  have  set  the  ears  of  the 
simple  and  goodly  company  tingling  till  doomsday. 

"There  are  others,"  however;  and  Brad  Simons,  at 
a  discreet  distance,  following  the  Braddock  farm  wagon 

from  T ,  and  seeing  the  same  empty  itself  in  front 

of  Widow  Walmsey's  door,  like  an  overburdened  carry- 
all sensible  of  its  opportunity  to  rest, —  Brad  Simons  is 
here ;  and  another  of  increasing  importance  in  our  nar- 
rative is  here,  likewise, —  Mr.  Smoky  Billings  is  here. 
In  fine,  the  firm  of  furnishers  of  interesting  and  exciting 
news,  Messrs.  Billings  and  Simons  (limited),  has  arrived. 

As  Mrs.  Walmsey  passed  into  the  house  with  the 
others,  she  was  overheard  to  say,  in  a  manner  of  natural 
consideration  obtaining  in  the  country  for  horses  and 
cattle  of  all  kind,  and  addressing  the  words  to  William 
Wliite,  who  was  just  in  advance  of  her : 

"If  the  horses  want  anything,  William,  will  you 
have  that  Smoky  man  of  yours  attend  to  them  ? ' ' 

William  White,  in  yielding  to  his  original  impulse 
of  interest  in  Billings,  had  employed  him,  or  assisted  in 
causing  his  employment,  on  the  premises  of  the  Widow 
Walmsey.  It  is  but  fair  and  just  to  Smoky  to  say,  that, 
in  the  humble  duties  of  the  modest  establishment  of  the 
widow,  he  had  shown  himself  perfectly  trustworthy  and 
reliable.  His  compensation  was  not  large,  and  of  the 
small  remuneration  White  satisfied  the  greater  portion. 
Billings'  demands  consisted  chiefly  of  sufficient  clothing 


278  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

to  protect  him  from  exposure  to  the  elements,  and 
enough  food  to  save  him  from  privations  of  appetite,  the 
last  named  provision,  together  with  a  shelter,  being  the 
only  part  the  widow  was  obliged  to  sustain  in  the  ex- 
pense of  Smoky's  emplojTiient.  The  question  of  shelter, 
of  course,  put  the  straightened  circumstances  of  Mrs. 
Walmsey  to  no  additional  charge;  and  Smoky  Billings' 
healthy  Indiana  appetite  was  carefully  and  guardedly 
watched,  by  William,  who  secretly  stood  ready  to  indem- 
nify the  widow,  in  this  latter  respect,  should  occasion 
require. 

As  Simons  approached  the  gate,  Billings  came  out 
into  the  road  to  observe  the  new  arrival  and,  in  the 
darkness,  by  closer  inspection,  determine  his  identity. 
At  the  same  time,  Esau,  late  mentally  denounced  by 
Uncle  Peter,  was  busying  himself  at  the  heads  of  the 
horses. 

"Good  evening,  friend,"  saluted  Simons,  from  horse- 
back, as  the  cattleman  perceived  the  now  neatly  attired 
figure  of  Billings,  but  failing  in  the  gloom  to  recognize 
the  former  tramp. 

"Evenin',"  responded  Billings.  "Cast  anchor  and 
land?"  asked  Smoky,  -wdth  an  affable  turn  of  nautical 
phraseology. 

"What's  that?"  said  Simons,  for  a  moment  puzzled 
by  the  oddity  of  the  fellow's  form  of  speech. 

"Get  off  and  hitch,"  said  Smoky. 

' '  Oh ! ' '  replied  the  grazier.  ' '  Think  I  shall, ' '  and 
Simons  proceeded  to  dismount  from  his  horse.  "Ah," 
said  he,  as  his  feet  touched  the  road,  "it's  you,  is  it?" 
and  the  cattle  raiser  gazed  into  the  features  of  Smoky 
Billings,  familiar  to  him  from  the  day  of  the  picnic. 
"How  'd  you  get  here?"  inquired  Brad  Simons. 

"The  fairies  didn't  pilot  me,  neither  did  the  angels," 
stolidly  rejoined  Billings;   "  'but,'   as  the   feller  says, 


BILLINGS  AND  SIMONS.  279 

'I've  arriv'. '  How  'd  you  come?"  The  question  was 
put  by  the  speaker  in  such  a  tone  of  seemingly  innocent 
inquiry,  that,  at  first,  it  struck  Simons  with  no  sense  of 
unusual  or  personal  liberty.  After  a  second  of  time, 
however,  it  entered  his  mind,  that  such  a  query  had  no 
special  bearing  upon  the  proprieties  of  his  reception  at 
the  hands  of  the  apparently  unconscious  party  leading 
the  stock  merchant's  horse  to  the  hitch  rail.  He,  there- 
fore, called  out  in  a  weak,  though  astonished  voice, 

"What's  that  to  you?" 

"Thought  it  might  mean  about  the  same  as  my  bein' 
here  meant  to  you,"  replied  the  man,  with  an  admir- 
able appearance  of  innocence  and  candor. 

"You  did,  did  you?"  half  growled  Simons.  "Well, 
my  comings  and  goings  have  no  part  in  your  business,  do 
you  hear?"  said  the  eattel  dealer  loudly. 

"Couldn't  help  hearin'  yer  hail,  mister,"  said 
Smoky,  with  easy  indifference ;  ' '  but, ' '  added  the  man  to 
himself,  ' '  I  don 't  know  about  my  havin '  no  part  in  your 
log  book.  Maybe,"  said  Billings  aloud  and  with  aggra- 
vating calmness,  "you'd  like  to  hire  me,  when  you  got 
anything  to  do, —  you  might  give  me  a   odd  job  or  two." 

"See  here,  bring  back  that  horse, —  or,"  ejaculated 
Brad,  striding  up,  "I'll  hitch  my  own  horse.  You  seem 
a  little  too  busy,  here," — the  cattleman  reached  for  his 
horse's  bridle, — "and  impertinent  enough,  at  that." 

"That's  about  correct,  mister,"  said  Smoky,  ignor- 
ing the  last  of  Simons'  retort,  and  proceeding,  with  the 
utmost  composure,  to  complete  the  hitching  of  Simons" 
horse, — ' '  that 's  what  I  am  —  kept  pretty  busy  here  — 
have  been  ever  since  you  had  that  'ere  talk  with  your- 
housekeeper,  that  time." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  gasped  Brad,  whose  breath 
was  suddenly  taken  through  this  intimation,  on  Billings* 
part,  of  a  knowledge  of  his  private  affairs. 


289  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"Oh,  nothin','"  answered  the  man.  He  completed 
the  fastening  of  Brad's  horse  to  the  hitching  rail;  and, 
having  shown  no  concern  in  voice  or  manner,  turned, 
with  a  similarly  undisturbed  and  satisfied  deportment, 
to  where  the  farraboy  was  just  finishing  like  services  for 
Peter  Braddock's  team.  "Say,  you  side  of  a  barn," — 
this  indecorous  though,  in  no  way,  ill  meant  speech  being 
delivered,  by  Smoky  Billings,  to  the  subject  of  Farmer 
Braddock's  recent  views  as  to  the  need  of  a  lunatic  asy- 
lum —  the  much  abused  Esau. 

The  farmboy,  with  becoming  dignity,  wished  to  know 
if  his  ears  had  heard  aright  in  gathering  that  Mr.  Bill- 
ings had  addressed  him  as  a  "side  of  a  barn." 

"That's  what's  o'clock,  my  hearty,"  retorted  the  ex- 
tramp  cheerily.  "Stir  around,  or  you'll  take  root,"  the 
last  to  further  animate  the  farmboy,  who  had  paused  in 
an  attitude  of  freezing  scorn.  "Have  you  got  them 
bosses  all  right!" 

This  free  and  easy  address,  on  the  part  of  Smoky 
Billings,  conveying,  in  the  last  question,  a  suggestion  of 
doubt  as  to  the  farmboy 's  professional  capacity  in  the 
care  of  horses,  and  coming  from  an,  heretofore,  unheard 
of  "nobody"  in  such  vocations,  added  to  the  ignominy 
of  being  called  a  "side  of  a  barn,"  was  too  much  for  the 
farmboy.  With  a  look  of  withering  scorn,  tempered  by 
a  polite  contempt,  Esau  turned  from  Smoky  and,  in 
proper  silence,  would  have  left  that  easy  going  gentle- 
man hopelessly  frizzling  beneath  his  disdain,  but  for  the 
humane  and  harmonizing  arrival  of  William  White. 

White,  at  this  crisis,  appearing  with  a  lantern,  hand- 
ed ttie  same  to  the  fat  boy,  remarking, 

"Esau,  you  and  Smoky  get  water  for  these  horses." 

Simons  had  bottled  his  own  wrath ;  and,  to  whatever 
effect  the  meaning  of  Billings'  remarks  relating  to 
Simons'  housekeeper  had  extended,  kept  his  own  counsel 


BILLINGS  AND  SIMONS.  281 

respecting  that  burst  of  confidence  from  White's  facto- 
tum. Deigning  no  furtlier  notice  of  the  impenetrable 
road  artist,  he  proceeded  into  the  house. 

The  scene  presented  within  Widow  Walmsey's  cheer- 
ful, lamp  lit  parlor  was  one  of  quiet  interest  and  repose, 
with  the  exception  of  a  show  of  despondent  and  melan- 
choly sentimentality,  which  oozed  from  the  pores  of  the 
heart  stricken  Job  Saunders,  and  which  was  intensified 
every  time  Job  looked  up  at  the  tall,  old  fashioned  clock 
standing  by  the  widow's  parlor  door,  and  noted  the 
lapse  of  those  precious  moments  which  he  had  come  pre- 
pared to  spend  in  the  widow's  exclusive  society. 

Simons  approached  De. 

"I  have,"  said  he,  in  a  low  tone,  as  he  reached  her 
side,  "something  to  say  concerning  your  brother.  Will 
you  hear  it?" 

The  wish  farthest  from  De 's  heart,  at  any  other  time, 
would  have  been  to  have  communication  with  this  man. 
After  the  meeting  in  Ann  Mariah's  garden,  she  had  dis- 
missed as  unworthy  of  further  consideration  one  who 
could  act  as  Simons  did,  that  day.  But  circumstances 
had  altered  since  then.  She  did  not  hesitate,  and  re- 
plied that  she  would  hear  him. 

Simons'  manner  evinced  that  privacy  was  desired, 
and  she  rose,  and  De  and  Brad  passed  from  the  room 
and  out  into  the  night. 

Those  remaining  in  the  road  without,  after  the  others 
had  entered  the  house,  had  evidently  departed,  and  the 
man  and  woman  were  alone. 

"Miss  De,"  began  Simons,  "I  wish,  first,  to  apologize 
for  my  conduct  at  Ann  Mariah  Saunders'." 

There  was  the  ring  of  genuine  regret  for  his  previous 
misconduct  in  the  man's  voice,  and  De,  v/orked  upon  as 
she  was,  felt  it. 

**Do  not,  I  beg,  Mr.  Simons,"  returned  the  girl,  "say 


282  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

any  more  about  that  day.  I  am  sure,"  said  she,  in  her 
serious  plight,  "I  —  we  all  have  need  of  charity  and 
consideration.  Let  all  that  pass.  You  were  saying, ' '  she 
prompted,  "that  you  had  something  to  tell  me  about 
John.     What  is  it?" 

They  had  removed  several  paces  from  the  door  into 
the  yard. 

Brad  Simons,  without  further  waiting,  replied: 

"Frankly,  I  hardly  think  it  is  w^orth  while  for  me 
to  say,  that  your  brother  can  scarcely  be  suspected  of 
guilt  in  this  affair,  for  which  he  is  now  suffering  confine- 
ment; but,"  and  here  the  speaker's  voice  grew  grave, 
"there  are  some,"  placing  an  impressive  emphasis  upon 
the  last  word, — "some  circumstances  attending  the  mis- 
take which  render  me  more  than  anxious  for  the  out- 
come of  his  trial." 

The  other's  heart  had  given  a  glad  bound,  when 
Simons  had  expressed  his  apparently  open  estimate  of 
her  brother's  innocence;  and  it  sank  to  a  corresponding 
degree,  when  the  professed  friend  concluded  in  such  dis- 
heartening terms.  Doubtless,  Brad  was  duly  alive  to 
this  effect  of  his  adroit  speech,  and  continued, 

"I  have  conceived  a  plan  by  which  it  is  possible  I 
may  be  able  to  assist  in  extricating  John  from  his  un- 
pleasant dilemma, —  who,  in  truth,  De,  should  no  relief 
come  to  aid  him,  might  come  to — " 

' '  Wliat  —  what  would  happen  ? ' '  breathed  the  thor- 
oughly alarmed  girl  in  accents  of  suspense. 

"De,  wall  you  forget  my  conduct  in  the  garden,  and 
be,  at  all  events,  my  friend,  once  more  ?  I  will  not  men- 
tion the  alternative  to  John,  but — " 

"I  have  said,  Mr.  Simons,  that  —  that  —  well,  why, 
yes,  of  course,  I  will  be  —  we  are  friends, —  of  course," 
went  on  the  stricken  woman,  scarcely  knowing  what  she 


BILLINGS  AND  SIMONS.  283 

was  saying, — "of  course  —  help  John  —  get  him  free  — 
oh !  do,  if  it  is,  in  any  way,  in  your  power. ' ' 

"Your  brother  is  very  dear  to  you, —  could  you  not 
bid  me  hope,  that  some  day,  should  I  show  you  the  way 
to  safely  redeem  him  from  these  unjust  suspicions,  I 
might  — " 

"Oh,  De,"  called  William  White,  "where  are  you?" 
and  White  was  seen  standing  in  the  door  of  Mrs.  Walm- 
sey's  dwelling,  peering  vainly  into  the  shroud  of  dark- 
ness without. 

"Oh!  save  him  —  save  him,  if  you  can;  that  is  all, — 
save  him,"  appealed  John  Braddock's  sister,  under  her 
breath,  obeying  some  uncontrolled  and  secret  instinct  to 
suppress  the  nature  of  this  inter^^ew  from  any  over- 
hearing ear. 

"De,"  once  more  called  William  White. 

A  man  stepped  out  of  the  neighboring  darkness,  and, 
unperceived,  approaching  the  figures  of  Brad  Simons 
and  the  whispering  girl,  reached  the  elbow  of  Simons 
before  either  the  latter  or  his  companion  were  aware  of 
his  presence. 

"I  say,  gov'nur,  don't  you  think  the  night  air  a  mite 
chilly  fur  a  young  lady?  Country  air  is  rayther  damp. 
Besides,  the  young  gent  is  waitin'. "  Smoky  Billings, 
with  his  feet  planted  wide  apart  and  firmly  on  the 
ground,  stood  before  Brad  Simons  and  uttered  this 
speech  without  any  more  expression  than  to  take  one 
hand  from  a  pocket  and  wave  it  negligently  toward  Will- 
iam White,  who  was  seen  advancing  in  the  direction 
whence  the  notes  of  Billings'  voice,  raised  a  trifle  high 
for  the  purpose,  had  floated  to  his  ears  upon  the  night 
air. 

"William,"  hurriedly  exclaimed  De  Braddock,  "Mr. 
Simons  was — " 

"Some  news  of  her  brother  John,"  finished  Simons, 


284  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

silently  grinding  his  teeth  and  endeavoring  to  control 
the  spasm  of  rage  that  seized  him  in  contemplating  the 
unmoved  form  of  Smoky  in  the  indistinct  near  vicinity. 
Smoky  Billings,  seeing  his  goddess  safely  under  the  pro- 
tecting care  of  White,  and  whistling  softly  "Annie 
Laurie,"  moved  with  self  possessed  and  undisturbed 
tread  slowly  from  the  scene  and  vanished  in  the  adja- 
cent shadows  of  the  night. 

Before  reaching  the  door  of  the  wdow's  abode,  Brad 
found  opportunity  to  whisper,  in  De  's  ear,  an  impressive 
necessity  for  secrecy. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


DE  AND   WILLIAM. — "dO  YOU   LOVE   ME?"      "l   DO." 

"then  why — ?" 

When  Brad  Simons  enjoined  secrecy  upon  her,  De, 
involuntarily  and  in  a  low  assent,  responded : 

"Yes." 

And  Brad,  for  the  time  being,  was  compelled  to  be 
satisfied. 

William  White  was  not. 

In  the  first  place,  it  had  affected  the  writer  most 
unpleasantly  to  see  the  girl  of  his  heart  alone,  at  night, 
in  the  yard,  with  the  cattleman. 

Call  it  jealousy;  level  all  the  philosophy,  commonly 
unattainable  to  mortals,  at  the  frame  of  mind  of  William 
White ;  invoke  that  perfect  and  absolute  trust  and  faith, 
which  should  be  accorded  the  average  and  so  called  per- 
fect loves  of  man  and  woman,  as  you  will !  still,  at  times, 
we  fall  to  wondering  at  and  petulantly  criticising  the 
acts  of  those  best  and  most  beloved. 

In  William  White's  case,  however,  it  is  but  fair  to 
say,  that  these  experiences  were  not  only  involuntary, 
but,  soon  checked  in  the  light  of  calmer  reflection,  be- 
came the  vitalizing  processes  by  which  the  flower  of  reso- 
lution long  in  the  bud  blossomed  and  bore  fruit.  It 
was  thus  spurred  by  impulse,  that  De's  lover  determined 
upon  prompt  action.  He  resolved  to  let  no  time  elapse 
without,  at  least,  telling  De  he  loved  her. 

Widow  Walmsey's  little  parlor  was  aglow  -udth  the 

285 


286  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

efforts  which  the  widow  had  put  forth  for  the  solace 
and  entertainment  of  her  neighbors  and  guests. 

The  quaint,  antique  clock,  rearing  its  tall,  oldtime 
form  near  the  widow's  door,  had  chimed  half  past  nine. 

Simons,  who  was  a  companion  of  no  mean  parts,  had 
really  served  a  useful  turn  in  rallying  Job  Saunders  a 
bit  out  of  his  sulks,  and  in  diffusing  a  species  of  encour- 
agement in  the  hearts  of  John  Braddock's  family;  Job 
had  strummed  the  old  guitar,  which  was  a  relic  left  by 
the  late  Walmsey,  and  drawn  a  few  notes  of  convulsed 
agony  from  the  patient  instrument  under  the  genial  and 
thawing  influence  of  Simons'  manner;  and  the  widow 
and  De,  the  latter  making  effort  to  appear  cheerful  and 
to  contribute  to  the  pleasure  of  the  others,  had  sung  a 
bar  or  two,  in  duet,  with  weird  and  extraordinary  accom- 
paniment, by  Job,  upon  the  guitar,  and  Uncle  Peter  had 
dozed,  nodded,  fallen  asleep  and,  with  a  jerk,  been  awak- 
ened by  mother. 

Eefreshments  had  been  served,  and  Uncle  Peter,  at 
last,  had  dropped  into  hopeless  slumber,  in  his  chair. 
Mother  Braddock,  her  heart  with  John,  was  trying  to 
prolong  affairs,  for  the  sake  of  De  and  William.  An 
aggravated  attack  of  sulks,  on  Job's  part,  superinduced 
by  the  widow  having  fixed  her  eyes  upon  Simons  during 
a  brief  conversation  between  Brad  and  herself  on  the 
subject  of  affairs  of  the  heart  and  politics,  had  super- 
vened. 

Out  in  the  road,  Esau  and  Smoky  had  amicably  ad- 
justed their  differences;  and  the  first  faint  edge  of  the 
moon  was  preceding  its  silvern  face  just  above  the  tops 
of  the  eastern  wood,  when  White,  with  De,  emerged  from 
the  widow's  door. 

The  sweet  smelling  honeysuckle  was  scenting  all 
about;  subdued  sounds  of  voices,  presumably  those  of 
the  reconciled  Smoky  and  Esau,  came  in  droning  hum 


"DO  YOU  LOVE  ME?"  287 

from  the  wagon  in  the  road;  an  occasional  and  not  im- 
pleasing  chord,  struck  from  the  guitar  by  Job  to  keep 
the  jealous  performer  in  touch  with  the  joint  converse 
of  the  trying  Widow  Walmsey  and  Brad  Simons,  was 
borne  upon  the  air  without,  and  the  moon  rose  higher. 

The  Newfoundland  dog  came  up  to  his  mistress,  as 
she  and  William  stood  in  the  widow's  yard,  and  rubbed 
against  her  dress,  and  wagged  his  tail  in  assurance  of 
friendship  and  deathless  devotion,  and  walked  away. 

A  sound  of  wild,  eerie  song  floated  to  the  lingering 
lovers  from  the  fields: 

Bonny,  my  child, 

Bonny  and  wee, 
Eyes  blue  and  mild, 

That  only  can  see 
Mother  above,  bending-  and  low. 

Over  thy  cradle, 
Rocking-  thee  so." 

The  strain  was  wild  and  sad,  and  De  instinctively 
drew  to  the  side  of  White,  as  she  fancied  the  figure  of  the 
demented  singer  Rachel  Bolers  flitting,  unreally  in  and 
out  of  the  moonlight,  over  the  fields  and  through  the 
woods  beyond. 

The  lover  felt  the  touch,  and  caught  from  her  a 
breath  of  purity  in  his  own  quick  breathing,  and  his 
soul  took  fire. 

"De — "  he  whispered,  softly. 

The  girl  was  silent,  under  the  spell  of  the  hour;  her 
thoughts,  however,  not  more  with  her  present  surround- 
ings than  hovering  and  dwelling  in  a  lonely  cell,  where 
was  a  man  waiting  for  trial  of  liberty, —  perhaps, —  she 
knew  not, —  life,  itself!  She  saw  him,  in  this  hour  of 
the  evening  moon  climbing  on  high,  in  undeserved  and 


288  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

unmerited  prison  exile.  Her  eyes  suffused  and  softened 
with  tears. 

Another  softly  spoken,  "De,"  from  her  companion 
brought  no  reply  from  the  preoccupied  girl. 

What  if  Simons  could  aid  John  ?  Could  she,  if  any- 
thing happened  to  her  brother,  ever  feel  justified  or  for-* 
given  if  she  had  neglected  to  contribute  her  mite,  how- 
ever small,  to  his  rescue? 

White  could  not  read  what  was  passing  in  the  mind 
of  the  troubled  sister.  His  lack  of  egotism  would  not 
consent  to  think  she  was  yielding  to  the  spell  of  enchant- 
ment in  moonlight  and  honeysuckle  steeping  his  own 
soul  in  bliss  unutterable ;  and,  yet,  he  could  hope. 

' '  De, ' '  pleaded  the  man. 

Her  thoughts  continued  to  run:  She  knew  only  too 
well  what  Brad  Simons  would  wish, —  she  knew  the  sac- 
rifice expected  of  her.  She  was,  at  that  moment,  most  in 
need  of  a  kindly  world  wise  friend  to  advise  her.  She 
was  alone  —  with  her  best  loved  at  her  side,  alone.  An 
entire  subservience  to  the  will  of  Simons  held  her  in 
bonds  of  silence,  and  prevented,  if  not  forbade,  her 
speaking  to  William  of  Simons'  proffered  aid  or  obvious 
motive. 

It  is,  in  this  manner,  lurking  beneath  the  graver 
interests  of  life,  that  superstitious  terror  and  dread  of 
we  know  not  what  work  incalculable  evil ;  and  this 
knowledge  may  help  us,  as  far  as  possible,  to  remove 
from  our  affairs  that  secrecy  which  restrains  our  liberty 
in  the  interest  of  so  questionable  a  design  as  that  which 
actuated  De's  persecutor. 

William  drew  the  girl's  arm  wdthin  his  own,  and  felt 
it  tremble. 

"I  was  thinking  of  John,"  said  De,  simply. 

"I  cannot  think  he  will  suffer,"  ventured  White, 
compassionately. 


''DO  YOU  LOVE  ME?"  289 

"I  do  not  know,"  replied  the  other,  absently  and 
sadly. 

"De,  you  must  know  what  is  in  my  mind  and  heart, 
tonight,"  said  White;  while,  at  the  critical  moment  of 
his  own  life,  realizing  the  time  and  stress  of  his  loved 
one's  sorrows. 

* '  I  wonder, ' '  said  the  girl,  in  one  of  those  unaccount- 
able bursts  of  digression  which  come  to  us  at  the  most 
incongruous  times,  "if  Job's  father  will  ever  return," 
and  the  two  listened,  in  momentary  silence,  to  one  of 
Job's  especially  emphatic  chords  upon  the  guitar  aimed, 
by  the  disconsolate  and  sentimental  musician,  with  par- 
ticularly pointed  venom  at  a  serious  climax  in  the  rela- 
tions of  Simons  and  the  widow. 

White  stilled  his  own  disappointment,  and  made  a 
quiet  and  commonplace  attempt  at  reply  in  the  remark : 

"The  widow  stands  a' poor  chance  without  Job's  in- 
heritance. ' ' 

At  this,  De  followed  out  William's  interpretation  of 
her  own  observation,  with  a  sad,  troubled  little  laugh. 

"De,"  again  said  William,  "can  you  listen  to  me?" 

She  involuntarily  endeavored  to  detach  herself  from 
the  trend  of  thought  that  had  been  stealing  over  her  in 
the  affairs  of  her  brother,  and,  turning  to  White,  replied, 

"Yes, —  what  is  it?"  with  no  apprehension  of  what 
was  coming. 

"You  have  been  so  much  to  me,  in  all  my  thoughts 
and  aims;  you  have  been  the  confidante  of  my  higher 
and  better  purposes ;  you  have  been  so  faithful  in  friend- 
ship, and  so  true,  in  the  past,  in  all  that  seems  good  and 
worthy,  that  —  that  —  I  have  come  to  look  upon  you  as 
a  goal  for  all  the  ways  of  my  life,  a  temple  to  reach  in 
the  long  way  ahead,  and  in  which  my  altar  of  days  is 
builded:   I  love  you,  my  own,  my  heart!" 

The  solemn  night   echoed  the   words;   the   clinging 


290  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

honeysuckle  vine  perfumed,  mth  its  rarest  blossom  and 
flower,  the  air  of  that  "temple"  builded  not  only  "in 
the  long  way  ahead,"  but  builded  then,  builded  in  the 
remote  and  dim  ages  of  the  past,  builded  for  all  time 
and  all  eternity ;  and  the  mystic  and  beaming  splendors 
of  the  ancient  and  hoary  moon  touched  with  loving 
sweetness  and  power  the  burning  moments. 

"William,"  softly  replied  the  girl,  "I  am  —  not 
myself  to-night.     Could  you  wait?     Sometime — " 

It  wrenched  the  lover  to  hear  her  say  it !  There  are 
moments  when,  wrought  to  the  highest  pitch  of  love,  hope 
and  anticipation,  it  seems  w^e  cannot  accept  denial.  At 
least,  it  seemed  so  to  William  White. 

' '  But,  De, ' '  he  could  not  understand ;  how  could  he  ? 
' '  why  not  now  ? "  he  paused  and  stood  before  her.  Some- 
one laughed,  uproariously,  in  the  wagon, —  it  sounded 
like  Smoky  Billings. 

"I  —  I  —  cannot  —  I  am  not  able  —  you  will  wait, 
William,  I  know?"  appealingly  cried  the  girl,  lifting  her 
swimming  eyes  to  his. 

"De,  there  is  something  between  us  I  do  not  under- 
stand. Has  it  anything  to  do  with  — with  Brad 
Simons?"  a  note  of  hoarseness  broke  sharply  in  the 
speaker's  voice. 

"Oh!  William,"  cried  the  heart  broken  one,  "do 
not  ask  me." 

"De,"  said  the  man,  with  forced  calm,  "do  you  love 
me?" 

And  De  answered, 

"I  do." 

"Then,  why—?" 

De,  my  child,"  said  the  quiet  voice  of  Mother  Brad- 
dock,  at  Mrs.  Walmsey's  door,  "it's  time  we  wuz 
a-movin '. ' ' 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


ESAU    MAKES    A    DISCOVERY    OF    INCREASING    MYSTERY    AND 
BEWILDERMENT. 

Esau  entered  the  barn.  It  was  morning.  The  farm- 
boy  had  been  instructed,  by  Uncle  Peter  Braddock,  to 
grease  the  harness.  He  entered  the  stable  whistling  the 
stirring  air,  ' '  Run,  girls,  run,  the  fire 's  in  the  haymow ! " 
The  whistler's  tones  were  clear  and  piercing,  and  the 
effect  of  the  effort  might  have  caused  very  free  and  will- 
ing flight  of  any  listener,  male  or  female,  to  the  ear 
splitting  performance.  As  Esau  entered  the  barn,  he 
gave  a  fat,  rolling  kick  at  a  stray  porker  wandering,  in 
grunting  laziness,  through  the  broad  midway  aisle  of  the 
shelter  for  objects  of  farm  life.  The  smell  of  the  hay  in 
the  loft,  mingled  with  that  from  the  horses  in  their  stalls, 
followed  Esau  into  the  compartment  used  for  harness, 
and  combined  a  most  agreeable  and  stable  odor  Avitli  the 
the  penetrating  smell  of  long-greased  leather. 

When  Esau  had  reached  his  destination,  and  the  con- 
clusion of  his  musical  efforts,  he  changed  his  whistling 
tones  to  those  of  surprised  speech  and  exclaimed, 

* '  Now,  I  '11  be  darned !  who 's  been  in  this  here  harness 
room  ? ' ' 

Evidence  of  great  confusion  and  unaccustomed  dis- 
order, in  the  immediate  locality,  appeared  to  justify 
Esau's  exclamation  of  wonderment.  Horse  collars, 
hames,  old  skeleton  saddletrees,  buggy  and  wagon  traces, 
and  all  the  articles  and  odds  and  ends  of  hitching  gear 

291 


292  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

familiar  to  the  human  necessities  for  the  horse,  lay  in 
confusion  about  the  floor. 

Esau  stood  and  gazed  helplessly  at  this  abuse  of  his 
orderly  department;  and,  at  length,  with  his  foot,  aim- 
lessly pushed  aside  a  piece  of  harness,  as  it  lay  upon  the 
floor  before  him.  A  small  slip  of  paper,  lying  concealed 
beneath  the  object  thus  displaced,  now  became  visible. 
Esau  stooped  and  picked  up  the  bit  of  paper.  The  scrap 
was  a  portion  of  an  old  envelope.  On  the  fragment,  in 
one  corner,  still  remained  the  name  and  address  of  some 
firm  in  Chicago,  the  description  of  the  nature  of  whose 
business  had  been  torn  away  in  the  process  which  had 
left  the  ragged  remains.  Esau  poured  over  his  find,  de- 
ciphered Anth  his  little  school  learning  the  printed  Chi- 
cago item  and  fell  in  defeat  before  some  written  charac- 
ters appearing  in  an  almost  illegible  scrawl  on  the  bal- 
ance of  the  scrap.    Esau  could  not  read  writing. 

"I'll  show  that  'ere  to  Miss  De,"  said  the  boy  refer- 
ring, like  with  all  other  ciuestions  giving  rise  to  perplex- 
ity of  his  sluggish  intellect,  the  matter  of  the  puzzling 
piece  of  writing  to  his  one  infallible  authority. 

The  farmboy,  without  more  ado,  and  thrusting  the 
slip  of  paper  into  a  pocket  of  his  butternuts,  proceeded 
methodically  to  replace,  in  their  accustomed  places,  the 
elements  of  disorder  that  had  found  unaccountable  rest- 
ing place  upon  the  floor.  He  then  got  out  the  harness 
grease  and  went  so  far  as  to  treat  several  pieces  of  har- 
ness therewith,  when  his  interest  reawakened  in  the 
scrap  of  paper,  accompanied,  as  that  latter  article  was, 
by  the  circumstances  of  the  mysterious  invasion  of  the 
Braddock  barn ;  the  position  of  affairs  finally  impelling 
the  farmboy,  at  this  point,  to  rise  from  a  nail  keg,  upon 
which  he  had  been  sitting,  and  to  walk  straight  into  the 
house  and  up  to  De  Braddock,  who  was  scouring  knives. 
He,  here,  asked  bluntly  and  without  preliminary, 


INCREASING  BEWILDERMENT.  293 

"What's  that?"  Esau  accompanied  his  question 
with  a  movement  which,  without  much  cetemony,  thrust 
the  piece  of  envelope  right  under  tlie  pleasing  nose  of 
pretty  De. 

"Why,  Esau,"  said  De  good  naturedly,  "how  you 
do  startle  one  !    What 's  what,  you  great  big  fellow  ? ' ' 

"That,"  said  the  boy. 

' '  This  —  this  piece  of  paper  ?  Why,  nothing  that  I 
can  see, —  stay  —  wait —  why,  Esau,  where — ?  Oh, 
mother,"  broke  off  De,  "see,"  and  the  girl  ran  to  her 
mother. 

Farmer  Braddock,  here,  entered  the  kitchen. 

"I  say,  Esau,"  exclaimed  Braddock,  "I  beat  ye,  this 
mornin',  'ith  that  harness.  I  got  out  there  an'  tuk  it  all 
down.  Have  to  straighten  that  'air  harness  room  out 
some,  I  reckon.  Ye'  bin  out  there?  Had  to  go  away,  I 
did,  to  git  that  there  plaguey  heifer  out'n  the  woods  — 
strays  away,  all  the  time."  The  farmer  did  not  appear 
to  notice  the  preoccupation  of  those  present,  and  ran  on 
in  a  talkative,  interested  vein.  ' '  Seen  some  fellers  sneak- 
in'  aroun',  down  there,  by  the  river  —  that  darn  cuss, 
weth  a  big,  black  beard,  'at  they  talk  so  much  about  bein' 
th'  leader  uv  them  thieves,  wuz  with  'em,  too.  Thought 
I  seen  som^e  women,  er  somep'n,  a-follerin'  'em.  I  got 
the  heifer,  an'  they  all  skinned  out,  w'en  they  see  me, 
I  tell  ye.     'YGosh!— " 

The  shadows  and  the  phantoms  were  ever  wanly  jig- 
ging, ever  drawing  nearer;  but  the  fat  boy,  for  the 
moment,  unconsciously  intercepted  their  further  eerie 
gloom. 

"Yep, —  I  put  the  hull  biz'ness  back  on  the  pegs," 
answered  Esau  to  Braddock 's  question  as  to  the  farm- 
boy's  previous  presence  in  the  barn.  The  fat  boy  ignored 
the  latter  part  of  Mr.  Braddock 's  remarks;  accepting, 
likewise,  in  stolid  and  additional  silence,  his  explana- 


294  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

tion  of  the  disorder  lately  discovered  in  Uncle  Peter's 
stable;  but  unsatisfied  about  the  paper. 

'Mis'  thought,  I  did,  'at  I'd  do  a  leet'le,  myself; 
but  it 's  all  right.  Do  it  your  own  way.  Mother  —  w^hy, 
what's  the  matter?"  ejaculated  Peter;  "ye  look  —  you 
an '  De  —  like  ye  'd  seen  a  ghost ! ' ' 

Indeed,  Mrs.  Braddock  and  her  daughter  were  ex- 
pressive images  of  surprise  and  dismay. 

"You  know  anything  'bout  this  here,  Peter,"  asked 
Mrs.  Braddock,  indicating  the  slip  af  paper  in  her 
daughter's  trembling  fingers. 

"Wliy,  no;  I  don't  know  'at  I  do,"  said  Mr.  Brad- 
dock, coming  forward.  "  'Low  ye  mout  tell  me  whut  't 
is,  an'  I  could  tell  ye,  p'raps,  more  'bout  it.  What 
is  it?" 

"Esau,  there,  kin  tell  more  p'intedly,  an'  I  kin," 
rejoined  Martha  Braddock.  "Esau,  boy,  speak  up. 
Where  'd  ye  git  it?" 

' '  Why,  in  'tarnation !  don 't  ye  speak,  when  ye  're 
spoken  to,  ye  cub,  ye  ? "  irritably  exclaimed  Uncle  Peter ; 
"don't  ye  hear  'em?  Whut  be  the  matter  weth  ye,  ye 
loonytick  ? ' ' 

This  forceful  and,  maybe,  somewhat  unjust  assault 
upon  tiie  farmboy  was  called  forth  by  two  things, — 
first,  a  naturally  slow  wdtted  condition  of  the  farmboy 's 
mentality;  and,  secondly,  by  the  farmboy 's  present  con- 
fusion, in  his  own  mind,  of  a  species  of  intellectual 
tonic  a  neighboring  farmhand  had  but  lately  read  him 
concerning  the  fate  of  ' '  Gunpowder  Dick,  or  the  Slaugh- 
tered Innocents,"  with  the  mystery  in  the  recent  "find" 
in  the  barn, —  result:  Esau's  laborious  speculation  upon 
the  likelihood  of  the  present  mysterious  truth  proving 
stranger  that  past  fiery  fiction.  Upon  the  Indianian's 
remarks  being  threatened  with  the  rienforcement  of  tlie 
Indianian's  coarse,  rawhide  boot  as  a  spur,  in  the  rear, 


INCREASING  BEWILDERMENT.  295 

to  the  farmboy's  tardy  working  faculties,  Esau  dismissed 
visionary  and  comparative  mystery,  and  descended  to 
the  practical  world.  He  related  for  the  information  of 
those  there  the  circumstances  of  his  coming  into  posses- 
sion of  the  piece  of  torn  envelope. 

"  'Twa'n't  there  when  I  wuz  there,  fur  I  seen  nothin' 
on  that  blessed  floor  from  eend  to  eend,  I  didn't,"  sub- 
joined Mr.  Braddock,  flatly.  "But,  see  here,  yeVe 
worked  me  up,  e'en  afore  I've  as  much  ez  had  a  squint 
at  thet  'air  paper,"  and  Braddock  stretched  forth  his 
hand,  and  Mother  Braddock  placed  the  fragment  of 
paper  in  the  old  farmer's  fingers. 

"Whut's  this?"  said  Uncle  Peter,  in  wondering  sur- 
prise, and  reading  aloud,  "  'You  will  better  let  Brad 
Simons  be  to  you  an  aid,  than  a  snare.  He  knows  the 
ways  of  John  and  the  man  that  will  hang,  and  can  know 
more.  But  he  sure  of  him.'  Hoity  toity!"  said  the  old 
man ;  ' '  some  —  ?  —  no,  you  can 't  write, ' '  this  broken 
observation  was  addressed  to  the  farmboy,  now  finally 
launched  into  a  worthy  and  silent  comparison  of  the 
mystery  contained  in  the  unsigned  paper  with  that  of 
"The  Slaughtered  Innocents." 

Brad  Simons  came  riding  up  at  this  moment,  dis- 
mounted, reached  the  rose  covered  porch  of  the  house 
and  knocked  briskly  at  the  front  door. 

De  went  to  the  door  in  answer  to  the  summons,  won- 
dering possibly  at  the  nature  of  so  early  a  call,  and  una- 
ware, until  confronted  by  Brad,  of  the  identity  of  the 
caller. 

"Father,"  called  De  as  she  saw  Simons,  and  with- 
out waiting  for  the  latter  to  speak,  "bring  that  paper 
here,"  a  sudden  sense  of  her  own  dominant  influence 
asserting  itself,  and  causing  her  to  take  the  lead  now 
and,  in  all  subsequent  relations  affecting  her  brother's 
case  in  the  family,  from  that  time  forth. 


296  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"Mr.  Simons,  do  you  know  anything  of  this?"  de- 
manded the  girl,  fixing  her  clear,  honest  truth  compelling 
gaze  upon  the  cattleman's  full,  round  face  and  shifting 
eyes. 

The  manifest  surprise  and  amazed  repudiation,  in 
Brad  Simons'  look,  and  his  unuttered  contempt,  too 
plain,  however,  to  be  mistaken,  as  to  the  slip  of  paper 
and  its  contents,  might  have  satisfied  anyone  of  his  lack 
of  guilt.  Added  to  this,  the  scornful  and  genuine  denun- 
ciation, which  Simons  instantly  unburdened  himself  of 
against  the  author  of  this  anonymous  communication, 
was  sufficient  to  convince  the  most  skeptical  of  Simons' 
entire  and  perfect  innocence  of  all  and  everything  con- 
nected with  the  authorship  of  the  Avarning  and  advice 
contained  in  the  fragmentary  note  discovered  by  Esau. 

"Then,  who  did  it?"  was  De's  emphatic  inquiry. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 


A    COMPACT. 


As  trifling  as  the  anonymous  scrawl  had  struck 
Uncle  Peter,  and  as  contemptously  as  Brad  Simons  had 
made  out  to,  and  actually  did,  esteem  the  unknown 
writer  of  it, —  OAving  mainly,  however,  to  the  mistrust 
of  himself  expressed  in  the  closing  sentence  of  the  secret 
missive  that  De  had  received  by  the  unconscious  hand 
of  Esau, —  in  spite  of  these  circumstances,  there  was, 
in  the  brief  and  unsigned  note,  food  for  reflection,  in 
their  different  ways,  for  both  John  Braddock's  sister 
and  Bradford  Simons. 

To  De  it  was  manifest,  in  the  first  place,  that  another, 
whosoever  that  other  might  be,  entertained  the  same 
opinion  of  the  powers  for  good  or  ill  that  she  herself  had 
been  slowly  forming  respecting  Brad  Simons.  This  view 
none  too  pleasantly  strengthened  her,  in  spite  of  herself, 
in  that  opinion  of  this  man  who,  to  her  mind,  had  become 
so  singularly  identified  with  John's  fate. 

To  Simons'  astute  mode  of  reasoning,  the  note,  in  the 
parts  not  casting  mistrust  upon  himself,  gave  him  a 
species  of  additional  advantage  over  the  young  girl 
whom  he  was  trying,  by  every  means  in  his  power,  to 
get  under  his  control. 

The  existence  of  evidence,  contained  in  the  words  of 
Uncle  Peter  uttered  previously  to  his  learning  of  the 
anonymous  paper  and  just  before  the  recent  arrival  of 

297 


298  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

Brad  upon  the  scene,  that  the  outlaws  had  been  seen  hov- 
ering about  the  Braddock  farm,  may  be  taken  as  import- 
ant, in  various  ways.  It  cannot,  however,  in  any  way  be 
construed  as  implicating  Simons  in  any  unexplained 
collusion  with  one  or  more  of  the  sleepless  units  of  the 
lawless  body,  in  this  last  effort  at  the  influencing  of  the 
mind  of  De  Braddock.  Brad  was  clear  of  all  this.  Nev- 
ertheless, the  unforeseen  event  of  the  unknown  writer's 
message  was  destined,  in  its  own  way,  to  effect  the  climax 
which  the  tireless  and  unsparing  cattle  trader  had  so 
long  and  patiently  been  conspiring  to  —  De 's  surrender. 

The  phantom  fates  were,  truly,  materializing  into 
a  far  too  uncomfortable  reality;  and  with  Black  Hank 
and  Rachel  Bolers  flitting  furtively  in  their  midst. 

Notwithstanding,  it  does  not  seem  to  have  suggested 
itself  to  the  thought  of  Peter  Braddock,  that  the  vicinity 
of  ' '  some  fellers ' '  led  by  a  "  darn  cuss,  weth  a  big,  black 
beard,"  and  some  women  "a-follerin'  "  might  have  been 
significant;  Uncle  Peter,  slow  going  and  easy,  permitted 
the  incident  of  the  fragment  of  writing  to  become  eradi- 
cated from  his  thoughts,  with  an  underestimated  value 
of  its  importance,  in  whatever  fashion,  affecting  him  or 
his.. 

Mother  Braddock,  if  uneasy  thoughts  or  reflections 
she  continued  to  carry  in  regard  to  Esau's  discovery, 
said  nothing. 

And  Esau  wove  a  romance  out  of  the  mysterious  slip 
of  paper  that  would  have  out-gunpowdered  "Gunpow- 
der Dick"  and  all  of  that  explosive  young  man's  degen- 
erate kind, —  a  work  of  lurid  fancy  ranking  in  the  scale 
of  mysteries  and  events  at  an  equal  height  with  all  the 
thrilling  and  bloodcurdling  romances  which  the  ample 
and  sufficient  capacity  of  respectable  literature  ever  pro- 
duced. 


A  COMPACT.  299 

"Here,  ye  loiterin'  feller,  git  right  out,  ag'in,  to  that 
there  harness,"  exclaimed  Uncle  Peter  to  the  brooding 
Esau. 

The  farmboy  came  out  of  his  gruesome  trance  with  a 
start. 

"Ye '11  be  the  death  o'  me,  ye  will,"  muttered  Peter, 
whose  temper  was  perpetually  aggravated  by  a  "loiter- 
in'  "  disposition  inherent  in  his  young  farm  assistant 
in  the  face  of  a  sleepless,  unwearying  energy  and  vigor 
possessed  by  the  old  man. 

As  the  ambling  figure  of  the  fat  farmboy  passed 
out  of  the  kitchen  door  into  the  rear  dooryard.  Brad 
Simons,  who  by  this  time,  had  wormed  his  own  way  into 
the  kitchen,  appeared,  with  an  effort,  to  rouse  himself 
from  his  own  thoughts,  and  proceeded  to  follow  the  melo- 
dramatically minded  youth  into  the  yard. 

"I  say,"  said  Simons  when,  just  as  the  farmboy  was 
preparing  to  enter  the  big  barn.  Brad  overtook  the  lad, — 
"I  say,  do  you  know  anything  more  about  this  scrap-of- 
paper  business,  than  you  have  told?"  and  Simons  fixed 
a  look  of  penetrating  scrutiny  upon  the  full,  open  coun- 
tenance, suffused  with  food,  healthy,  country  red,  halted, 
by  its  owner,  within  a  few  feet  of  his  own.  ' '  It  may  have 
a  very  serious  bearing  —  effect  upon  the  interests  of 
your  mistress.  Miss  De. " 

Reference  to  De  moved  the  fat  boy,  as  the  questioner 
meant  it  should;  but  beyond  Esau's  powers,  under  the 
trying  circumstances,  to  express.  He  felt  like  blubber- 
ing. However,  he  succeeded  in  checking  this  impulse  to 
unmanly  emotion,  with  recollections  of  the  "nerve"  and 
coolness  displayed  in  grave  emergencies  by  "Gunpowder 
Dick."  And  at  this  turn  Esau  stooped  ponderously, 
carefully  detached  a  wheat  straw  from  its  detaining  place 
between  a  board  and  a  long  thin  splinter  of  the  same, 
and,  rising  once  more  to  a  position  of  erect  contempla- 


300  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

tion,  put  the  straw  into  his  mouth,  chewed  twice  upon 
it  and  thoughtfully  viewed  the  person  of  Brad  Simons 
from  head  to  heel. 

"Did  you  hear  what  I  said?"  rather  sharply  and 
further  questioned  Brad. 

"I  heerd  ye,"  answered  the  ruminating  farmhand, 
"an'  ye  needn't  try  Uncle  Peter's  scoldin'  game  with 
me  —  won 't  go, ' '  the  fat  boy  removed  the  straw  for  but 
the  briefest  second  from  his  lips ;  gazed  upon  it,  and  re- 
turned it  to  the  recesses  of  his  jaws,  from  whence,  there- 
after, it  continued  to  protrude  as  a  silent  testimonial  to 
the  transient  destiny  of  all  straws, 

"Well,  at  least,  answer  me,  will  you?"  persisted 
Brad  Simons,  in  a  more  conciliatory  manner. 

"I  hain't  no  more  information  on  this  here  murd'rus 
and  meesteer'us  plot,"  observed  Esau,  and  in  that  sen- 
tence dismissed  from  the  vital  issues  of  the  hour  all  but 
harness  grease,  and  smartly  betook  his  operations  to  the 
instant  application  of  that  useful  article  to  the  harness ; 
for  he  had  perceived,  afar,  the  lowering  approach  of 
Uncle  Peter  descending  upon  him  with  "lightning, 
storm  and  wrath"  writ  upon  his  brow. 

Simons  was  painfully  forced  to  content  his  mind  with 
a  conviction  of  the  boy's  entire  freedom  from  any 
further  or  unwarrantable  complicity  in  the  anonymous 
writing;  and  the  unscrupulous  and  determined  cattle- 
man, bent  on  probing  this  new  development  and  estab- 
lishing, if  possible,  an  additional  bond  between  De  and 
himself,  was  turning  reluctantly  to  retrace  his  steps  to 
the  house,  when  an  object  attracted  his  attention  and  he 
turned  back  to  the  barn. 

"Wasn't  that  that  fellow  that  cursed  one  armed 
writer  has  employed  over  there  at  Walmsey's?"  quer- 
ied Simons  to  himself. 

' '  Now,  what  the  devil !  —  If , "  continued  I\Ir.  Simons 


A  COMPACT.  301 

in  imperfect  and  broken  speech,  "this  sort  of  thing 
keeps  up  much  longer, — "  what,  "if  this  sort  of  thing 
kept  up,"  would  have  been  the  consequences  (which, 
judging  by  Brad  Simons'  past  record,  might  have  been 
bad  enough  to  suit  any  taste),  the  soliloquizer  left  un- 
specified. 

He  went  around  the  barn,  to  which  general  locality 
he  had  espied  the  sudden  withdrawal  from  view  of  the 
figure  of  a  man  resembling,  in  the  fleeting  glimpse  Brad 
had  been  afforded,  the  person  and  original  bearing  of 
the  inimitable  and  self  possessed  Mr.  Smoky  Billings. 

Sure  enough,  upon  reaching  the  far  side  of  the 
stable,  Simons,  the  perturbed,  discovered  Billings,  the 
composed,  in  presentable  raiment  of  dark  cloth,  wholly 
unconcerned  and  sitting  on  a  log. 

In  an  easy  and  natural  manner,  the  ex-sailor  rose,  as 
Simons  "hove  in  sight,"  and,  as  if  expecting  a  visit  of 
respect  by  appointment  from  the  puzzled  as  well  as  dis- 
turbed and  angry  cattle  dealer,  advanced  with  a  bearing 
of  perfect  cordiality  and  wished  Mr.  Simons  a  "very 
good  morning;"  remarking,  as  an  item  of  seemingly 
indispensable  cheer,  that, 

"He  hoped  Mr.  Simons'  hammock  had  swung  clear 
on  the  night  previous,"  which  remark,  properly  under- 
stood, meant,  on  Smoky  Billings'  seafaring  part,  that 
White's  new  assistant  would  be  glad  to  know  that  Mr. 
Simons'  previous  night's  rest  had  been  comfortable. 

Brad  Simons  eyed  the  unmoved  character  evilly  for 
a  moment. 

"You  don't"  say  so!"  sneeringly  retorted  the  raiser 
of  cattle.  Simons'  memory  was  actively  employed  in 
recalling  the  singularly  interesting  part  which  Smoky 
Billings  had  taken  in  the  cattleman's  discomfiture  on 
the  evening  of  the  social  gathering  at  Widow  Walm- 
sey's. 


302  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

Smoky  Billings'  rejoinder  to  this  ungracious  re- 
ception of  his  agreeable  advances  was  to  spread  his 
lips  upon  his  visible  teeth;  smile  affably,  and  remain 
silent. 

"I'll  give  you  a  good  night's  rest,  one  of  these 
times,  my  fine  fellow,"  burst  forth  the  enraged  cattle 
trader,  rightly  construing  Smoky's  friendly  speech  to 

relate   to    a   night's    repose, — "you    and   your    d d 

master!"  Simons  had  an  object  in  view  with  White's 
man;  and,  certain  of  the  difficulties  in  the  way  of  its 
attainment,  w^as,  nevertheless,  unable  to  contain  the 
mass  of  discontent  which  preyed  upon  his  working 
vitals. 

"You'd  better  give  that  housekeeper  o'  yourn  a 
rest,"  suavely  replied  the  smiling  gentleman  in  front 
of  the  angry  man. 

Simons  took  a  step  forward,  and  raised  his  clenched 
fist  containing  a  riding  whip ;  but  a  peculiar  glitter  in 
the  eye  of  the  onetime  artist  of  the  road  detained  the 
upraised  menace. 

"  'No,  on  second  thought,'  "  coolly  quoted  the  un- 
moved Smoky,  containing  his  own  large  and  dispro- 
portioned  hands  within  the  knowing  recesses  of  his  own 
pockets,  "  'I  don't  think  I  would,'  said  the  villain, 
scowiin'  darkly  upon  the  roarin'  stream  at  his  feet,  and 
soliloquizing  to  hisself,  'it  might  be  the  death  o'  me.'  " 
and  Brad's  antagonist  glanced  composedly  into  the 
face  of  his  opponent  and  gave,  with  secret  though  unap- 
parent  relish,  the  lines  of  his  stirring  and  highly 
colored  authority. 

Simons  lowered  his  fist  and  whip ;  his  face  worked 
for  a  moment,  and  then  seemed  to  slowly  regain  its 
calm ;  he  dropped  his  hand,  with  the  whip  in  it.  He 
took  one  or  two  swallows  and  cleared  his  throat. 

Smoky  very  considerately  shifted  his  gaze  from  the 


A  COMPACT.  303 

face  of  the  disconcerted  and  laboring  man,  and,  fixing 
a  look  of  intelligent  scrutiny  and  polite  criticism  upon 
the  weathervane  representing  a  fish  placed  symmetri- 
cally upon  the  gable  end  of  the  barn,  he  opined,  "that, 
that  was  it  and  that  was  the  way  of  it."  "And," 
added  the  literary  wanderer,  "never  go  a-fishin'  till 
ye  read  that  book  by  that  feller,  'at  I  once  heerd  wrote 
it,"  this  reference  to  a  writer  on  the  angler's  pursuits 
doubtless  embracing  vague  impressions  of  the  observer 
of  the  fish  on  the  Braddock  stable  relating  to  a  cele- 
brated character  in  literature  of  the  name  of  Walton. 

"I  came,  sir,  to  ask  you  a  question,"  finally  said 
Brad  Simons,  in  a  strained,  metallic  voice, 

"Now,  I  rather  expected  when  you  seen  me  sail 
behin'  this  here  barn,"  said  Simons'  companion  collo- 
quially, "that  I'd  have  the  disting'ished  pleasure  of  a 
call  in  port  from  you,  but  the  value  you  place  on  this 
char-acter  here,"  added  Billings,  "in  any  matter  'at  I 
can  answer  to  is  'greater  honor  'an  he  knew,'  "  much 
humility  and  apparent  self  abasement  attended  this 
further  quoted  utterance  of  Smoky. 

It  had  been  Brad  Simons'  policy  to  first  win  the 
confidence  of  this  man,  much  as  he  despised  the  sea- 
faring character,  and  suddenly  confront  the  latter  mth 
the  anonymous  note,  hoping  to  find  the  clue  to  the 
secret  missive  in  the  uncovering  of  some  deep  though, 
to  Brad,  incomprehensible  plot  in  which  Billings  might 
have  a  hand.  Brad  Simons  had  lost  his  self  possession, 
a  bad  thing  at  all  times  to  do,  and  the  only  thing  left 
him  was  to  go  bluntly  to  tlie  point,  or  leave  the  matter 
in  which  he  was  interested  unnoticed. 

He  chose  the  first  method;  he  went  bluntly  to  the 
point. 

"There  was  found,"  said  Simons,  without  further 
preliminary,  "a  suspicious  communication  in  the  barn, 


304  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

this  morning.  Do  you  know  anything  about  it?"  with 
this  observation,  Brad  unceremoniously  "poked"  the 
note,  obtained  from  De  for  "tracing"  purposes,  beneath 
the  nose  of  Smoky  Billings  much  after  the  unexpected 
and  unprepared  manner  previously  observed  by  Esau 
with  De. 

Smoky  Billings'  wide-open-eyed  wonder  convinced 
Simons  of  total  innocence,  in  this  quarter,  at  least ;  and 
Brad  paid  little  serious  additional  heed  to  Smoky's 
polite  disclaimers.  De's  pursuer  was  a  good  judge  of 
men,  but,  for  other  reasons,  had  he  struck  Smoky 
Billings  dead  at  his  feet  he  had  escaped  the  fatal  hand 
of  the  doomsman. 

Experiencing  no  great  sense  of  satisfaction  in  his 
interview.  Brad  turned  to  depart  with  the  few  heartfelt 
and  parting  words : 

"I  owe  you  no  love,  my  friend,  and  I'll  pay  you 
out  one  of  these  days ;  but,  I  guess,  this  scrap  of  paper 
doesn't  lie  at  your  door." 

"Mr.  Smoky  Billings,  which  is  w'at  you  gents  in 
this  'ere  rejun  has  named  this  'ere  Avanderin'  min- 
strel," quoth  Smoky,  "is  sensible  of  the  con-fee-dence 
and  esteem  conveyed  in  them  last  sentiments,  and  when 
you  find  yerself  a-hangin'  around  the  nayborhood  of 
Billings  Castle,  County  Billings,"  hospitably  added  he, 
"yer  mustn't  furgit,  'at  the  latch  string  stretches  as 
much  as  a  mile  an'  more,  right  your  way,"  with  which 
particularly  urgent  and  pressing  invitation  to  partake 
of  the  ancestral  entertainment  of  the  noble  Billings' 
aristocratic  county  seat.  Smoky  lit  a  short,  rich,  black 
pipe  and  smoked  luxuriously. 
Simons  Avithdrew. 

Smoky  Billings  was  not  the  mysterious  agent  of  the 
disturbing  fragment  of  envelope;  and  Brad  Simons,  in 
respect  of  his  judgment  of  Smoky's  innocence  in  this 


A  COMPACT.  305 

particular,  much  ds  he  now  disliked  one  wlio  had  so 
openly  braved  liim,  was  right.  Simons'  own  person, 
seen  recently  riding  by  Billings'  place  of  employment 
at  Mrs.  Walmsey's,  was  the  occasion,  this  morning,  of 
Smoky's  attendance  at  Uncle  Peter  Braddock's  farm. 
In  other  words,  Billings,  in  popular  terms,  was  "keep- 
ing an  eye  on"  Brad. 

So  the  knowledge  of  the  recent  anonymous  writing 
first  heard  of,  by  Billings,  through  Brad,  put  Smoky  to 
thinking ;  and  it  is  doubtful  whether  any  scrap  of  paper, 
from  the  days  of  the  first  printing  press  to  the  present 
time,  ever  set  so  many  people  by  the  ears,  or  occasioned 
more  genuine  or  lasting  concern. 

Simons,  returning  to  the  Braddock  farmhouse, 
found  De,  as  we  have  seen  her  once  before,  standing  at 
the  gate  and  looking  wistfully  down  the  road. 

She  was  oppressed  with  a  sense  of  care  and  respon- 
sibility. 

Simons  reached  the  side  of  the  girl  in  the  familiar 
gingham  dress,  her  apron  falling  in  snowy  white  drap- 
ing from  the  graceful  waist ;  and  tresses  of  the  chestnut 
hair  streaming  at  random  through  the  caressing  touches 
of  the  vagrant  and  amorous  breeze. 

A  dead  sycamore,  close  at  hand,  sheltered,  or  rather 
with  its  bare  stricken  limbs  afforded  support  for,  the 
solitary  crow  poising  in  seeming  anticipation  of  signi- 
ficant flight,  at  sight  of  Simons,  to  the  protecting  wood 
at  a  secure  distance  beyond. 

"You  will  let  me  find  who  did  this?"  said  Brad 
Simons,  as  he  came  to  De's  side.  He  held  the  piece  of 
envelope  in  his  hand. 

"Oh,"  replied  the  object  of  his  address  hopelessly, 
' '  what  does  it  matter  ?    Let  it  be. ' ' 

"No,"  positively  rejoined  Simons,  who  was  making 
of  the  affair  a  means  of  selfishly  prolonging,  to  some 


306  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

definite  advantage  to  himself ,  the  present  interview;  "I 
shall  hunt  out  the  writer  of  this;  and  now,  De,"  pur- 
sued the  cattle  raiser,  "what  have  you  to  say  to  me? 
I  want  to  be  your  friend  and  John's.  I  want  to  be  your 
friend.     I  want  you." 

Not  without  a  shade  of  anxiety,  Brad  waited  for 
the  girl  to  speak.  On  the  evening  of  the  gathering  at 
Widow  Walmsey's,  William  White,  in  Brad  Simons' 
knowledge  and  following  the  conference  between  Brad's 
self  and  De  Braddock,  had  enjoyed  a  private  conversa- 
tion of  his  own  with  Peter  Braddock 's  daughter.  Si- 
mons confessed  to  some  uneasiness  to  know  what  that 
meeting  between  White  and  De,  in  Widow  Walmsey's 
yard,  had  resulted  in. 

"I  only  know  one  thing,"  responded  the  cattleman's 
victim,  shuddering :  ' '  my  brother  John  must  be  cleared 
of  this  mystery  and  unjust  suspicion  resting  upon  him — 
must  be  freed  from  the  dangers  which  threaten  him." 

"That,"  replied  Brad  with  an  air  of  sympathy,  "is 
precisely  what  /  say.  But,"  brazenly,  now  that  the  ice 
was  broken,  went  on  the  heartless  schemer,  "I  love  you. 
Do  not  shrink.  You  will  soon  see, — well,  you  nor  no 
woman  can  be  indifferent  to  such  love  as  I  bear,"  said 
the  man  hotly.     "Give  me  but  to  hope — " 

"Mr.  Simons,"  again  said  the  woman  in  scarcely 
audible  tones,  "John  must  be  rescued  from  whatever 
this  may  bring  to  him.  If,"  continued  the  speaker, 
with  a  face  white  and  set  and  straining  in  a  conscious- 
ness of  the  crow  flying  in  the  distance  and  just  near- 
ing  the  edge  of  the  wood, — "if  you  can  make  sure  that 
John  will  not  unjustly  suffer  for  the  murder  of  Zeke 
Smithin— " 

"You  Avill ?"  exclaimed  Simons  advancing,  im- 
pulsively. 

"I  will ,"  said  De. 


A  COMPACT.  307 

And  the  unhappy  compact  wanted  nothing  more  to 
complete  its  cruel  meaning;  or  its  heroic  self  sacrifice, 
on  the  part  of  the  devoted  and  faithful  girl. 


CHAPTER  XXXI, 


WILLIAM     WHITE     FACES     HIS    ENEMIES. 

After  the  apparent  open  and  confessed  association 
of  Brad  Simons  and  Jason  Jump,  the  political  manager 
of  Grigscomb,  had  taken  place  in  the  encounter  between 
Likkum  and  Simons,  based  upon  White's  elementary- 
connection  with  the  congressional  race  in  that  district, 
the  ex-soldier  and  present  political  possibility  saw  no 
cause  to  doubt  an  understanding  between  Brad  Simons 
and  Jason  Jump.  The  latter,  in  White's  knowledge,  had 
come  to  that  community  mysteriously  enough.  Simons, 
at  first,  had  provided  Jump  with  an  introduction  into  the 
circle  of  neighborhood  affairs,  but  their  intercourse, 
—  that  of  the  newcomer  and  the  local  stock  dealer, — 
wsa,  after  that,  of  very  rare  and  unapparent  occurrence. 
Jason  Jump  was  known  to  be  doing  a  small  business  in 
cattle  of  his  own,  which  afforded  him  ostensibly  a  legiti- 
mate means  of  livelihood,  in  the  view  of  those  whose 
interest  or  attention  might  induce  them  to  question  ap- 
pearances in  this  respect,  in  the  case  of  Simons'  friend. 
Wliite  was  possessed  of  a  singular  feeling,  however,  that 
there  was  a  bond  of  closer  and  more  intimate  concern 
between  the  two  men — were  the  truth  known,  a  con- 
cealed connection  which  might  even  disclose  an  addi- 
tional depth  of  collusion  affecting  his  own  unceasing 
desire  to  unearth  the  meaning  of  Rachel  Bolers'  inco- 
herent and  wandering  utterances  concerning  Brad  Si- 
mons, De  Braddock  and  himself,  in  the  cave,  on  the 

308 


WHITE  FACES  HIS  ENEMIES.  309 

night  of  his  own  abduction.  As  disordered  as  Rachel 
Bolers'  expressions  had  been,  "William  White  could  not 
for  the  life  of  him,  help  regarding  them  as  containing  a 
vital  and  important  meaning.  White  had  heard  Blacl^ 
Hank  speak  on  but  one  occasion, — when  De's  lover  had 
been  taken,  blindfolded,  to  the  caves.  Such  was  the 
marvelous  skill,  with  which  Jason  Jump,  in  the  char- 
acter of  the  outlaw  chieftain,  effected  a  complete  change 
of  tone,  speech  and  manner,  that  the  confused  and  dis- 
comfited writer,  in  his  limited  opportunity,  was  endowed 
with  no  conscious  powers  of  identifying  one  with  an- 
other. Notwithstanding,  there  were  fleeting  times,  after 
a  while,  that  followed  his  being  taken  to  the  caverns, 
when  something  struck  him  as  strangely  familiar  in 
Jason  Jump's  voice,  as  if  he  had  heard  it  before,  and 
under  circumstances  impossible  to  recall.  This  last  con- 
dition of  things  puzzled  and  annoyed  him  greatly,  and 
just  why  he  could  not  tell.  He  found  himself,  more  than 
once,  stopping  in  his  walk,  as  an  echo  of  the  notes  of 
Jump's  tones  would  seem  to  float  past  his  ears.  It  was 
no  use;  he  would  have  to  let  it  go — cease  trying  to  re- 
member where  that  voice  had  ever  come  to  him  in  the 
past.    The  trick  of  memory  failed  him ! 

Another  interest  destined  to  absorb  the  life  of  Will- 
iam White  was  beginning  to  surely  creep  upon  him,  to 
suiprise  him  and  to  enslave  him ;  but  in  a  different  way, 
perhaps,  from  the  exclusive  subjection  to  love  and  love's 
affairs.  The  question  of  his  taking  seriously  the  washes 
of  his  friends  to  allow  his  name  to  be  placed  before  the 
convention  to  nominate  a  candidate  for  congress  had 
been  sprung  and  would  not  down  or  rest.  One  thing 
alone  would  have  been  sufficient  to  cause  him,  in  any 
way,  to  lend  himself  to  the  desires  of  his  more  intimate 
personal  following,  and  that  was  the  recently  formed 
conviction,  on  his  own  part,  of  a  questionable  and  un- 


310  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

worthy  coalition  between  Grigscomb's  political  manager 
and  Simons.  This  instinctively  caused  White,  as  Grigs- 
comb's  proposed  congressional  opponent,  to  hesitate 
about  refusing  to  take  any  course  that  might  tend  to 
stem  the  current  of  a  threatened  flood  of  evil  influences 
under  the  joint  promotion  of  Jason  Jump  and  Brad 
Simons.  Rumor,  too,  now  and  then,  and  quite  recently, 
had  connected  Brad's  name  with  some  transactions 
very  much  resembling  those  of  the  organized  outlawry 
of  the  neighborhood;  and  White,  turning  tliis  last  ite7ti 
over  in  his  mind,  had  reached  the  conclusion  that  it  was 
high  time  for  the  community,  in  some  manner,  to  com- 
bine for  the  defeat  of  this  mysterious  and  baffling  con- 
dition of  crime  and  terror  existing  in  its  midst.  Realiz- 
ing to  the  full  the  local  interests  apparently  alone  in- 
volved, it  yet  appealed  strongly  to  his  native  sense  that 
there  was  here  a  plain  threat  to  connect  seemingly  the 
worst  elements  of  society  with  the  national  as  well  as 
local  system  of  government.  Out  of  his  own  inherent 
sense  of  natural  right,  and  with  his  suspicions  now 
fully  aroused,  William  White  was  as  prompt  and  deter- 
mined to  take  a  stand  on  a  platform  with  his  friends,  as 
he  had  been  to  previously  reject  the  idea  of  making  a 
congressional  race  merely  for  a  questionable  personal 
advancement. 

The  dark  motives  that  might  be  supposed  to  inspire 
the  way  Brad  Simons  was  going,  if  not,  likewise,  the 
course  being  pursued  by  Jason  Jump,  could  not  fail,  in 
the  judgment  of  the  coming  writer-politician,  essentially 
to  color  the  actions  of  Grigscomb,  the  confessed  repre- 
sentative of  both  Simons  and  Jump  and  all  they  might 
seem  to  stand  for. 

Late  one  afternoon,  following  the  attempt  upon  De 
and  her  rescue  by  Smoky  Billings,  Smoky  and  William 
White  stood  side  by  side,  in  front  of  Jacobs'  Store,  in 


WHITE  FACES  HIS  ENEMIES.  311 

T ;  as,  in  figure  of  language,  they  were  destined, 

thereafter,  to  stand  side  by  side  to  the  end  of  life.  They 
were  watching  two  suspicious  looking  characters  who 
sat  in  a  farm  wagon,  standing  on  the  corner  of  the  pub- 
lic square,  directly  opposite  to  where  William  and  his 
constant  attendant  remained  observing,  without  the  ap- 
pearance of  doing  so,  the  movements  of  the  others. 

"They're  part  of  Simons'  cattle  driving  outfit,"  re- 
marked White.  The  speaker  allowed  his  gaze,  as  if 
aimlessly,  to  wander  down  the  street,  but  in  a  direction 
contrary  to  that  in  which  were  the  objects  of  his  watch- 
fulness, thus  successfully  diverting  the  attention  of  the 
latter  from  the  meaning  of  his  speech. 

"They  drive  his  cattle;  but  I've  seen  'em  stop  an' 
speak  to  that  'air  Jump  feller,  too,"  rejoined  Smoky  in 
a  low  tone. 

"Don't  let  them  see  that  we  are  talking  about 
them,"  said  his  companion. 

"They're  up  to  something,"  was  the  other's  guarded 
response.  "They're  a-waitin'  fur  someun',"  and 
Smoky  Billings  slowly  and  aparently  without  purpose 
turned,  his  glance  casually  sweeping  the  circle  of  his 
vision  and,  at  the  same  time,  catching  sight  of  the  dis- 
tant form  of  Jason  Jump  who,  nearing  the  office  of 
Benjamin  Grigscomb,  was  seen  to  join  the  lawyer  as 
the  last  named  came  upon  the  scene  from  his  place  of 
occupation. 

An  idea  seemed  suddenly  to  seize  Smoln'-. 

"I'm  a-goin'  over  an'  talk  to  them  fellers  in  tli*" 
wagon,"  said  he.  "Wisht  yo'd  stay  an'  watch  them 
other  skunks,"  politely  referring,  in  William  White's 
understanding,  to  the  able  and  efficient  personalities  of 
Jason  Jump  and  Benjamin  Grigscomb,  who  were  grad- 
ually drawing  near  to  the  spot  where  Smoky  and  his 
chief  tarried. 


312  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"Be  careful,"  was  all  White  said. 

A  moment  elapsed.  The  writer  scratched  a  match 
and  lighted  a  pipe  with  the  skilful  use  of  his  one  hand. 
Billings  walked  easily  into  the  middle  of  the  street, 
across  which  was  the  wagon  where  sat  the  two  country- 
men; stooped,  and  appeared  to  pick  from  the  ground 
some  object  that  had  seemingly  attracted  his  attention 
and  drawn  him  thither.  As  he  rose  from  his  bending 
posture  he  flourished  conspicuously  in  his  hand  a  silver 
dollar,  with  the  remark,  uttered  in  a  loud,  bantering 
voice  in  the  direction  of  those  sitting  in  the  vehicle  near 
him, 

"You  fellers  around  here  must  have  money  ter 
throw  away," — the  operator's  method  of  covering  his 
movements  was  certainly  both  original  and  successful. 
He  had  dropped  the  coin  at  the  moment  of  picking  it 
up ;  had,  by  the  action,  introduced  the  occasion  of  speech 
with  the  objects  of  his  address  in  the  wagon,  and,  at 
this  point,  naturally  passed  on  to  the  country  convey- 
ance and  displayed  the  fruits  of  his  supposed  find  to  the 
questioning  looks  of  those  seated  in  the  wagon.  As  he 
rose  to  an  upright  position  with  the  dollar  in  his  grasp, 
Smoky,  for  an  instant,  was  scanned  by  one  of  the  two 
men  forming  the  purpose  of  his  present  maneuver,  wiio 
turned  swiftly  to  his  companion  and  hurriedly  whis- 
pered something.     The  other  shook  his  head  doubtfully. 

"I  tell  you  it  is,"  said  the  first  speaker,  accompany- 
ing his  assertion  with  a  rude  oath. 

When  Smoky  Billings  reached  the  wagon,  it  was 
plain,  however  he  had  succeeded  in  avoiding  suspicion 
before,  that  he  was  now  eyed  darkly  and  distrustfully 
by,  at  least,  one  of  the  occupants  of  the  vehicle  before 
him.  The  suspicious  countryman  gave  the  daring  of 
Billings  no  time  for  further  play. 

"What,"  he  said  sulkily,  "ye  want  weth  us?" 


WHITE  FACES  IIIS  ENEMIES.  313 

The  pretended  finder  of  the  coin  realized  instantly 
that  there  was  no  margin  here  for  slow  work.  He 
darted  a  quick  look  at  the  lowering  face  of  the  man  in 
the  wagon. 

White,  of  course,  had  witnessed  the  artifice  employed 
by  Billings  to  effect  an  approach  to  Simons'  drovers, 
and  been  unable  to  refrain  from  a  concealed  smile  of 
admiration  at  the  unexpected  and  cunning  resource  of 
his  follower;  but  his  attention,  at  once,  became  taken 
up  by  the  approach  of  Jump  and  Grigscomb;  and,  for 
the  time  being,  Smoky  was  left  to  fight  his  own  battles. 

Smoky  Billings'  glance,  shot  at  the  other  in  the 
wagon,  locked  with  one  as  unsparingly  sent  into  his  own 
eyes. 

"What  do  I  want  weth  ye,  ye  shrimp!"  retorted 
the  seafarer;  "well,  ef  I  wanted  ye  to  be  civil,  I'd  git 
left,  reckon." 

"What  ye  got  in  yer  hand?"  asked  his  adversary, 
pointing  to  the  one  in  which  was  held  the  object  just 
taken  from  the  road,  and  favoring  the  immovable  Bill- 
ings with  the  dawn  of  an  evil  grin. 

"That,  ye  lobster,"  pursued  the  sailor,  "is  what  I 
wnz  a-thinking  I  might  show  yer  mightiness.  Whut's 
ailin'  ye,  might  a  mere  nobuddy  ask,  anyhow?" 

This  appearing  to  form  an  issue.  Smoky  Billings' 
watchful  antagonist  drew  from  his  pocket  a  plug  of  navy 
chewing  tobacco ;  cut  from  it  a  liberal  supply  and  placed 
it  carefully  in  his  mouth,  while  he  inspected  Smoky 
Billings'  composed  countenance  with  sinister  intent- 
ness ;  restored  the  plug  to  his  pocket,  and  chewed,  for  a 
moment,  thoughtfully  and  silently. 

"We  know  you,"  finally  said  the  chewer,  with  slow 
and  deadly  deliberation,  "and  you  had  better  get  out 
of  this  part  of  the  country." 


314  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

Smoky  looked  at  the  shadows  in  the  west,  fore- 
runners of  the  closing  day. 

"Much  obleeged  fur  your  good  will  a-lettin'  me 
know,"  rejoined  Billings  affably;  "but  I  likes  this  here 
neck  0 '  th '  wood  f u  'st  rate.    Think  I  '11  stay. ' ' 

William  White  still  stood  where  Smoky  had  left 
him. 

"Mr.  Grigscomb,"  White  said,  as  John  Braddock's 
lawyer  came  by  in  company  of  his  political  manager  and 
nodded  to  William,  "there  is  something  concerning 
Braddock's  case  I  want  to  consult  you  about." 

The  lawyer  paused. 

Jump  said  to  Grigscomb, 

"I'll  see  you  later,"  turned  to  the  writer,  with  a 
show  of  cordiality;  bowed  and  smiled,  and  passed  on. 

"What  is  it,  Mr.  White?"  inquired  John's  la^vyer. 

The  deep  interest  which  William  Wliite  had  felt  in 
the  fate  of  John  Braddock,  it  wall  be  recalled,  had  al- 
ready caused  the  former  to  note  the  weakness-  of  the 
latter 's  case,  on  the  occasion  of  the  visit  which  White,  to- 
gether with  De  and  her  mother  and  father,  had  made 
to  John  in  confinement;  and  the  concerned  writer  had 
learned  with  distress  of  the  failure,  as  yet,  of  the  de- 
fense to  supply  a  witness  to  John's  alibi.  It  had  made 
him  doubly  uneasy,  since  the  visit  to  the  jail,  to  observe 
that  Brad  Simons  and  De  were  to  be  seen  frequently  to- 
gether in  apparently  confidential  communication.  This 
last  fact,  more  than  any  other,  filled  De's  lover  with  un- 
easiness and  apprehension. 

"You  know,"  began  White,  "that  I  feel  a  degree 
of  interest  in  this  case,  owing  scarcely  more  to  the  con- 
cern I  cherish  for  John  Braddock  and  his  sister,  than  to 
the  fact  that  these  disorders  in  the  community  have 
reached  to  such  an  extent,  if  something  is  not  done  to 
stop  them,  we  will  soon  have  no  community  to  live  in." 


WHITE  FACES  HIS  ENEMIES.  315 

Like  all  selfish  men,  Grigscomb  had  but  one  interest 
in  any  way  affecting  the  community  or  the  world  he 
lived  in,  and  that  interest  was  his  own.  "You  know, 
Mr.  White,"  he  said  indifferently,  "that  I'm  a  busy 
man.  If  you  have  anything  to  say  to  me  relating  to  the 
case  you  speak  of,  which  can  affect  the  interest  of  my 
client,  I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  it.  I  do  not  know  that  it 
is  necessary  to  waste  much  time  on  the  community.  It 
is  apt  to  take  care  of  itself,  and  leave  you  to  take  care 
of  yours."  This  was  Grigscomb  without  the  mask,  in- 
spired by  the  secret  contempt  felt  for  White,  at  best.  To 
another  he  would  not  have  dreamed  of  so  speaking. 
William  White,  as  much  as  he  had  thought  himself  con- 
versant with  the  absolute  insincerity  of  the  professional 
social  and  political  expression  and  sentiment  of  his  times, 
was  amazed  at  the  man.  It  afforded  the  coming  political 
aspirant,  as  well  as  the  aroused  and  awakened  writer, 
the  opportunity  of  unavoidable  duty.    He  took  it. 

"Mr.  Grigscomb,"  said  he,  "I  am  puzzled  how  to 
deal  with  such  an  astounding  utterance,  on  your  part. 
You  surely  cannot  mean  what  you  have  just  said,  oc- 
cupying the  place  of  vital  and  representative  importance 
you  do,  in  this  locality?" 

' '  I  am  a  busy  man. ' ' 

Forgetting,  for  the  moment,  the  question  of  a  wit- 
ness to  an  alibi  for  John  Braddock,  William  White  broke 
out  in  plain  honesty, 

"Mr.  Grigscomb,  if  I  am  given  the  nomination,  in 
this  district,  for  congress,  I  shall  take  great  pleasure  in 
accepting  it,  if  only  to  make  it  possible  to  send  someone 
besides  yourself  to  Washington,  in  order  (and  I  say 
it  in  personal  good  will  to  you),  that  our  representa- 
tives may  aid  in  rescuing  the  people  from  such  indiffer- 
ence as  you  see  fit  to  display  to  their  welfare." 

Grigscomb,  taken  by  surprise,  stood  looking  dumbly 


316  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

at  the  man  who  had  just  spoken.  It  would  be  difficult 
to  fully  account  for  the  instantaneous  and  numbing 
effect  of  the  brief  speech  the  literary  man  had  made. 
Somehow,  it  had  told  as  in  a  public  address. 

The  two  were  interrupted  here  by  Smoky  Billings, 
who  approached  without  ceremony  and,  as  Grigscomb 
shifted  his  gaze,  by  a  brief  nod  gave  White  to  under- 
stand there  was  something  going  on  that  required  atten- 
tion. 

"Mr.  White,"  observed  White's  flurried  political  ad- 
versary, studiedly  recovering  his  poise  and  attempting 
to  speak  with  intense  sarcasm,  "your  frankness  is 
equaled  by  your  preeminently  successful  previous  politi- 
cal and  professional  reputation  and  the  respect  and  con- 
fidence in  which  you  have  been  held  in  the  community 
you  so  devotedly  defend." 

To  this  additional  fling  at  his  well  known  humanita- 
rianism  and  charity, 

"If  truth  is  held  in  contempt,  and  unselfish  solici- 
tude for  others  ridiculed,"  returned  Grigscomb 's  com- 
posed antagonist,  "  it  is  not  for  those,  who  are  naturally 
strong  enough  to  take  up  suffering  humanity's  load,  to 
flinch ;  nor  for  those,  whose  natures  seem  made  to  scoff 
and  jeer  at  beauty  and  perfection,  to  succeed  in  restrain- 
ing the  disinterested  and  self  denying  in  their  efforts 
for  something  as  worthy  as  deliberate,  cold  blooded  sel- 
fishness and  unfair  advantage,"  Mr.  White's  present  ap- 
pearance and,  doubtless,  best,  as  an  expounder  of  politi- 
cal economy,  was  going  well. 

"I  see,"  ironically  sneered  the  lawyer,  "that  we'll 
have  much  pleasure  in  our  game  of  political  hide  and 
seek." 

"You  will,"  replied  White  quietly,  "not  I."  He 
beckoned  to  Billings  and  the  two  walked  away,  with  a 
smile  and  a  word,  from  Smoky's  companion,  to  disarm 


WHITE  FACES  HIS  ENEMIES.  317 

any  unnecessary  personal  animosity,  on  the  part  of  Ben- 
jamin Grigscomb, 

"What  is  it,  Smoky?"  questioned  the  writer,  when 
they  had  gotten  out  of  earshot  of  Grigscomb. 

"They're  a-goin'  out  to  the  hills  yonder,"  replied 
Smoky. 

"They— who?"  said  White. 

"That  feller.  Jump,  an'  them  thare  critturs  in  that 
wagon,"  answered  the  other. 

"How  do  you  know?"  asked  Billings'  companion. 

"I  seen  him — Jason  Jump,"  elaborated  Smoky  in 
response  to  an  inquiring  look  from  White,  "a-ridin' 
out  o'  town  ahead,  an',  a'ter  a  bit,  them  wagon  fellers 
follered,  a-drivin'." 

"You  think  they  followed  Jason  Jump?" 

"Pooty  sure." 

"They  may  be  going  out  for  cattle,"  said  White. 

"Then  it's  somebuddy  else's,"  replied  Smoky. 
"Mr.  White,  ef  they's  nothin'  fur  me  to  do  on  deck, 
weth  ye,  fur  awhile,  I'll  jest  go  below,  fur  a  bit." 

For  a  moment,  White  looked  searchingly  into  Smoky 
Billings'  ordinarily  impenetrable  countenance.  What 
he  saw  there  confirmed  him  in  his  first  impression. 
Familiar  as  he  had  grown  with  the  figurative  speech  of 
the  characteristic  mariner,  he  readily  divined  Smoky's 
object  was  to  follow  and  spy  upon  those  whose  move- 
ments had  just  been  under  discussion. 

"Smoky,  they'd  kill  you,  if  they  caught  you  spying 
on  them,  like  they  would  a  rat  in  a  trap,  should  they, 
as  we  suspect,  be  moving  spirits  in  the  mischief  going 
on  in  this  neighborhood,"  said  Smoky's  friend. 

"If  they  ketch  me,"  said  Smoky. 

By  this  time  it  was  growing  dark. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 


THE  OLD   MILL. 


Billings  was  wrong  in  one  of  his  deductions.  During 
the  course  of  his  marked  and  striking  career  in  evil, 
Jason  Jump,  in  any  detail,  was  not  accustomed  to  act, 
in  his  o^vn  undisguised  personality,  -vs^th  the  subordi- 
nates of  the  band  of  outlaws.  It  is  kno^\-n  that  even 
Benjamin  Grigscomb,  in  the  lifetime  of  the  noted  out- 
law, never  had  other  knowledge  than  that  of  the  quiet 
and  apparently  law  abiding  citizen  Jason  Jump.  Hence, 
it  follows  that  the  going  out  of  town,  at  one  and  the 
same  time,  of  Jump  and  the  two  men  in  the  wagon,  as 
observed  by  Smoky  Billings,  could  not  have  been  the  re- 
sult of  open  conspiracy,  at  the  moment,  as  between  out- 
laws. Their  movements,  in  view  of  subsequent  develop- 
ments, doubtless,  had  been  previously  arranged  in  the 
regular,  secret  conclaves  of  the  marauders,  under  the 
disguises  and  mutual  concealments  employed  to  deceive 
one  another. 

Finding  Smoky  Billings  resolved,  White  announced 
his  determination  of  accompanying  him.  Night  had 
now  set  in,  and,  with  misgivings  which  he  strove  in  vain 
to  quiet,  William  White  passed  out  of  the  town  with  his 
follower,  little  reconciled  in  his  own  doubts  and  fears  by 
the  remote  hope,  on  so  seemingly  wild  and  reckless 
an  adventure,  of  securing  something  which  might  re- 
late to  his  own  connection  with  the  outlaws  and  De 
Braddock.  They  were  unarmed,  a  circumstance  that, 
while  it  increased  their  danger,  was,  at  the  instant,  im- 

318 


THE  OLD  MILL.  319 

possible  to  remedy.  Billings,  as  usual,  was  wholly  com- 
posed and  quite  at  his  ease.  White's  uneasiness  was  not 
an  evidence  of  cowardice,  for  there  were  few  braver 
men  than  he  in  that  community;  but  rather  proceeded 
from  the  intangible  something  which  mixes  discretion 
with  the  better  part  of  courage.  Both  he  and  Smoky 
had  a  general  familiarity  with  the  resorts  of  the  free- 
booters; and,  once  committed  to  the  projects  of  his 
hardy  and  adventurous  companion,  White  foresaw  no 
limit  to  the  disposition  of  the  former  to  penetrate  as  far 
as  possible  into  the  region  of  the  outlaws'  refuge.  They 
were  both  mounted  and  rode  slowly  and  with  great 
care;  this,  White  insisting  upon  after  a  considerable  ex- 
tent of  comparatively  safe  country  had  been  traversed 
at  a  fair  rate  of  speed. 

In  the  darkness,  they  came  suddenly  upon  the  wagon 
which  had  but  a  short  time  before  proved  a  part  of  the 
lure  that  had  drawn  them  from  town.  It  was  easily 
found  to  be  empty;  the  two  men  who  had  occupied  it 
being  nowhere  to  be  seen.  No  moon  aided  them,  and 
the  light  from  the  stars  was  not  great.  Objects  were 
but  faintly  visible,  with  that  vague  shadowy  indistinct- 
ness so  illusive  and  deceptive. 

"Billings,"  whispered  White,  "if  they  have  not  al- 
ready discovered  us  and  are  waiting  in  ambush,  we  had, 
if  we  want  to  escape  their  observation,  better  get  down, 
tie  our  horses  there  among  the  trees  and  look  around 
on  foot." 

"All  right,  cap'n,"  returned  Billings  in  similar 
whispered  tones. 

Moving  wdth  caution,  they  entered  the  wood  nearby; 
and,  after  satisfying  themselves  that  all  was  safe,  ap- 
proached the  edge  of  the  forest,  leaving  their  horses  se- 
curely fastened  to  a  clump  of  hickory  saplings. 

"Sh!"   warned   Smoky,   whose   quick   hearing   had 


320  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

caught  the  sound  of  movement  in  the  road.     Someun' 
out  there. ' ' 

Safely  concealed  from  view,  by  their  position  among 
the  trees,  the  two  watchers  peered  forth  in  an  eifort  to 
determine  the  source  of  noises  which  had  arrested 
Smoky's  attention.  Dim  figures  were  seen  moving  to- 
ward them,  not  far  distant  in  the  road.  They  appeared 
but  as  so  many  blurs  against  the  surrounding  objects  of 
the  night.  They  moved  steadily  forward,  dark  shadows 
Hitting  in  the  gloom  past  dim  fence  lines,  rocks  but  dark 
blotches  on  the  somber  skies,  and,  as  they  proceeded, 
blotting  the  lighter  hue  of  soil  in  the  roadway  wdth  irre- 
gular, dancing  forms. 

As  they  came  opposite  to  where  the  two  stood  silent 
and  motionless  among  the  trees,  one  of  the  figures  spoke. 

"I  tell  ye  I  heerd  the  sound  uv  bosses,"  declared  a 
man's  strong,  gruff  voice  positively. 

It  was  too  dark  and  the  speaker  himself  too  far  away 
for  White  to  be  sure,  but  the  latter  fancied  he  could 
recognize  the  deep  rough  tones  of  the  freebooter  whom 
the  writer  had  heard  called  Black  Hank  in  the  cave,  and 
thought  the  outlines  of  the  man  in  the  road  presented  a 
resemblance  to  the  bearded  chief  of  the  outlaws.  He 
whispered  his  conclusions  to  Smoky  Billings. 

''Like  ez  not,  cap'n,"  Smoky  returned  in  carefully 
guarded  speech, — "like  ez  not;  but  be  keerful,  they're 
a-ccmin '  this  way. ' ' 

"Aw,  kum  on,"  expostulated  a  less  exercised  compan- 
ion of  the  outlaw  leader;  them's  only  some  bosses  ye 
heerd  over  in  Samples 's  fiel's.  Whut  ye  be  about  ter 
do?" 

The  robber  chieftain  hesitated. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  he. 

"I  know  ye  don't,"  retorted  the  other;  "so  come 
along — do  somep'n', — fish  er  cut  bait." 


THE  OLD  MILL.  321 

The  first  outlaw  wavered  for  a  moment  between  his 
prompting  to  enter  the  wood, — where  the  horses  might, 
then  unknown  to  him,  have  been  easily  discovered, — 
and  his  disinclination  to  oppose  his  associate.  White 
and  Billings  waited  in  suspense.  Finally,  the  repeated 
urgings  of  his  companion  seemed  to  prevail,  and  Smoky 
and  William  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  two  men, 
followed  by  a  third,  go  on  past  their  hiding  place.  The 
hidden  men  watched  their  unsuspecting  quarry  go  like 
dark  and  disembodied  specters  along  the  unfenced 
fringes  of  the  wood,  which  afforded  the  former  conceal- 
ment ;  past  the  shadowy  fence  lines,  on  the  other  side  of 
the  way,  and,  so,  fading  into  the  surrounding  gloom,  on 
to  the  unholy  objects  of  their  ghostly  prowlings.  It  was 
White  who  first  obeyed  an  impulse  to  follow  the  mis- 
creants and  learn,  if  possible,  something  of  their  im- 
mediate purposes.  The  two,  as  if  acting  by  an  unex- 
pressed and  common  understanding,  began  slowly  to 
work  their  way  along  the  inner  edge  of  the  forest  in  the 
direction  taken  by  the  advancing  outlaws.  Their  pro- 
gress, at  first  tardy,  grew,  as  they  became  more  familiar 
with  their  ground,  appreciably  more  rapid,  so  that  pres- 
ently they  were,  once  more,  nearly  opposite  the  men  in 
the  road;  who  appeared  to  proceed  slowly,  but  as  if 
with  a  grim  and  sure  undertaking  in  view.  Just  beyond 
were  faintly  traceable  the  dim  outlines  of  an  old  mill 
which  sat,  a  solitary  and  lonely  object,  perched,  among 
the  crags  and  rocks  and  trees,  upon  the  perilous  edge 
of  a  deep  and  narrow  gorge  through  which  ran,  when 
its  banks  were  full,  the  stream  that,  once,  boiling  and 
tumbling  at  the  base  of  a  high  barren  ledge  of  stone 
whence  it  had  fallen,  turned  the  now  rotting  millwheel 
by  means  of  power  directed  through  a  race  above  the 
falls.  The  stream's  channel  was  now  dry.  The  mill,  at 
one  time,  had  been  an  effective  addition  to  the  uses  of 


322  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

the  neighboring  country,  but  finally  stood  a  ruin,  un- 
used and  dismantled,  presenting  only  a  touch  of  pic- 
turesqueness  to  the  landscape.     It  was  evident  the  out- 
laws had  this  decayed  and  lonely  resort  as  the  object  of 
their  destination.     As  they  came  to  the  dry  channel  of 
the  stream  which,  descending  to  the  lower  road,  had 
formed  part  of  the  widening  course  of  the  supply  of 
power  for  the  abandoned  mill,  the  freebooters,  from  the 
side  of  the  highway  opposite  their  silent  and  relentless 
trailers,  turned  quickly  to  the  left  in  among  the  rocks 
forming  the  ground  surface  and  banks  through  which 
the  dry  creek  ran.     They  here  appeared  to  pause;  for, 
though  they  were  not  visible,  White  and  Billings  could 
no  longer  hear  their  footsteps,  and  the  subdued  hum  of 
stationary  voices  came  to  the  ears  of  the  two  across  the 
way.     Before  his  companion  was  aware  of  Billings'  in- 
tention, the  latter  had  slipped  out  of  hiding  into  the 
road  and  was  half  way  to  the  rear  of  a  great  boulder 
behind  which  might  be  heard  the  muffled  tones  of  the 
outcasts  of  the  night.     The  daring  scout  was  seen  by 
William  White  to  sink  suddenly  to  the  earth  and,  as  an 
Indian  would,  wind  silently  to  the  rear  of  the  rock  con- 
cealing   the    others    from   view.      He    almost   instantly 
turned  and  made  his  way  rapidly  and  noiselessly  back 
to  the  side  of  his  own  chief.     Here,   for  the  briefest 
moment,  he  stood  silent.    He  then  spoke  in  a  low  whis- 
per. 

"Mr.  White,"  he  said,  "them  fellers  may  be  the  ones 
I  seen  in  th'  wagon,  in  town,  but  that  there  ain't  Jump 
what's  a-leadin'  of  'em.  They's  met  by  appointment, 
though,  out  here.  They're  a-going  to  separate,  an'  the 
feller  w'at  seems  to  be  d'rectin'  of  'em  's  goin'  fur 
somep'n'  ter  the  ol'  mill.  Stan'  by  an'  be  keerful,  an', 
I  sez,  f oiler  th'  leader  to  the  mill.  Look  out!  here  they 
kum." 


THE  OLD  MILL.  323 

Those  in  hiding  in  the  wood  perceived  two  forms 
emerge  from  behind  the  huge  boulder  and  walk  swiftly- 
down  the  road  in  the  direction  contrary  to  that  in  which 
stood  the  writer  and  his  companion.  Almost  at  the 
same  time,  White  and  Billings  saw  the  person  of  him 
who  remained  toil,  from  behind  the  single  greater  stone 
that  had  before  hidden  him  from  their  view,  up  over 
other  rough  and  uneven  formations,  and  so  make  his 
way  to  the  tumbledown  building  standing  rmong  the 
rocks  some  hundred  yards  off. 

Pursuit  of  the  man  climbing  over  the  obstructions  in 
his  path  presented,  to  White's  mind,  a  problem  of  suffi- 
cient difficulty  to  afford  warrant  for  his  laying  a  re- 
straining and  prudent  hand  on  his  energetic  compan- 
ion's arm,  when  Billings,  prompted  by  the  depth  of  his 
interest,  at  once  started  to  cross  the  road  and  stalk  their 
prey. 

"We  can  afford  to  take  no  chances,"  observed 
Smoky's  cautious  and  prudent  friend.  "Wait;  there  is 
a  plain  and  easy  way,  on  this  side  of  the  road,  through 
the  wood  and  across  the  creek.  The  stream  is  dry, — all 
the  better.  We  wall  cross  the  creek,  cross  the  road  and 
approach  the  mill,  by  way  of  the  lane,  which,  you  know, 
runs  up  to  the  mill  from  the  road,  lower  down."  Here, 
too,  as  White  knew,  would  be  increased  protection  in  the 
thick  growth  of  trees  lining  the  sides  of  the  lane.  The 
ex-soldier's  military  tactics  was  good.  The  way  sug- 
gested, much  opposed  as  it  w^as  to  Smoky's  wishes, 
owing,  however,  mainly  to  loss  of  time, — for  Smoky 
Billings'  very  nature  w^as  of  the  kind  that  gloried  in 
the  bold  rush  of  advance  and  the  charge,  as  if  he  had  in 
his  nostrils  the  scent  of  the  battling  ocean, — the  course 
suggested,  by  White,  for  gaining  the  outlaw  chieftain's 
citadel,  though  different  from  that  which  Billings 
should  have  liked,  displayed  strong  strategy.     In  the 


324  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

event  of  the  two  outlaws'  unexpected  return  the  exposed 
line  of  advance  over  the  rocks,  by  which  the  leader  of 
the  desperadoes  had  gone,  would,  in  their  present  un- 
armed position,  be  equivalent  to  suicide.  The  longest 
way  around  was  the  shortest  way  home.  Trusting  to 
an  arrangement  by  which  the  outlaws  had  determined 
to  rendezvous  at  the  mill,  and  thus  give  an  opportunity 
of  surprising  them  secretly  in  operations  solving  the 
meaning  of  their  present  acts,  White's  counsels  pre- 
vailed and  he  and  Smoky  proceeded  cautiously  to  carry 
them  out.  Keeping  within  the  concealment  of  the  wood 
on  their  owti  side  of  the  country  highway,  they  effected 
a  crossing  of  the  dried  stream  bed  in  the  forest;  when 
finding  all  safe  they  crossed  the  road  to  the  side  on 
which  stood  the  mill.  Down  a  lane  branching  from  the 
highroad  they  glided  like  spirits,  silent,  determined.  As 
they  neared  the  mill,  whose  weather-beaten,  time-scarred 
face  gloomed  to  their  left  in  the  woody  lane,  a  light,  in 
the  old  building,  was  seen  to  stream  fitfully  through  the 
chinks  and  cracks  of  the  place  and,  mo\'ing  by  one  of 
its  dark,  gaping  windows,  appear  to  pass  on  to  the  rear 
of  the  dilapidated  structure.  Presently''  the  flitting 
illumination  was  noticed,  after  a  period  of  disappear- 
ance, to  reappear  at  the  back  of  the  ruined  building, 
where  the  boarding  fallen  off  had  left  an  opening 
through  which  not  only  the  red  flash  of  the  flame  might 
be  seen,  but  the  form  of  its  carrier,  as  well.  Here  the 
light,  and  he  who  bore  it,  stopped.  White,  on  other  oc- 
casions, had  visited  the  picturesque  and  interesting  lo- 
cality; and,  familiar  with  the  premises,  at  once  pro- 
ceeded, Billings  bringing  up  the  rear,  to  make  his  way 
with  the  utmost  care  to  the  back  of  the  mill  which,  at 
this  point,  abutted  directly  on  the  dry  rocky  bed  occu- 
pied, when  full,  by  the  mill  stream.  It  was  dark  and 
forbidding   among   the   lowering   rocks   and   trees   sur- 


THE  OLD  MILL.  325 

rounding  the  outlaws'  haunts,  and  the  presence  of  pro- 
fuse, tangled  and  matted  underbrush,  rank  and  decay- 
ing soil,  and  broken  small  rock  made  it  a  matter  of  the 
extremest  difficulty  for  the  watchers  of  the  outlaw  to 
effect  their  movements  with  secrecy.  Once  Smoky 
stumbled,  which  brought  him  to  his  knees,  his  hand 
striking  sharply  upon  a  stone.  This  drew  an  involun- 
tary though  subdued  exclamation  of  pain  from  the  man. 
While  a  sound  from  the  voice  of  the  injured  one  could 
hardly  have  been  heard  in  the  mill,  the  flurry  among  the 
stones  evidently  was,  for,  through  the  opening  left  by  the 
absence  of  boarding  on  the  side  of  the  building,  the  free- 
booter was  seen  to  look  suddenly  around  in  some  occu- 
pation engrossing  his  attention  near  the  millstone,  by 
side  of  which  he  stood,  with  several  sheets  of  paper 
tightly  clutched  in  his  right  hand.  He  gazed  long  and 
earnestly  in  the  direction  from  whence  had  come  the 
sounds  that  had  arrested  his  attention.  He  was  evi- 
dently alone. 

"Hen,"  he  called  softly. 

There  was  no  response,  and,  doubtless,  attributing 
the  interruption  to  some  passing  wild  animal  of  the 
nighttime,  the  outlaw  appeared,  once  more,  to  devote 
himself  to  the  claims  of  his  employment. 

The  long  impunity,  in  this  section  of  the  country, 
with  which  the  malefactors  had  prosecuted  their  ne- 
farious dealings  had  made  them  strangely  and  singu- 
larly indifferent  to  the  ordinary  comings  and  goings  of 
the  natives  of  the  locality;  and  even  Jump's  seemingly 
curious  methods  of  stern  disguise  amongst  his  immediate 
followers  in  crime,  as  well  as  in  the  necessities  of  his 
other  lawless  operations,  bore  as  much  relation  and  re- 
spect to  a  curious  and  secret  desire  to  obscure  and  lose, 
as  far  as  possible,  consciousness  of  his  former  person- 
ality, as  to  any  aim  at  escaping  detection  in  his  crim- 


326  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

inal  offenses.  The  hidden  watchers  could  distinguish 
the  man's  features  and  even  understand  a  species  of 
muttered  soliloquy  with  which  he  appeared  to  accom- 
pany his  proceedings.  The  black  slouch  hat  and  huge 
black  beard  conclusively  identified  him  as  the  robber 
chieftain  familiar,  in  appearance,  to  both  Smoky  and 
William.  He  held,  in  his  hand,  what  now  appeared  to 
White  to  be  a  written  paper  which,  while  he  read,  he 
seemed  to  eagerly  comment  upon. 

White  and  Billings  both  started,  at  the  man's  low 
intense  words — 

"And  shall  I  add  the  Smithin  case?" 

Steps  were  heard.  The  other  outlaws  were  return- 
ing. The  call  of  the  whippoorwill  was  repeated  thrice. 
The  holder  of  the  paper  was  no  longer  mistaken  as  to 
the  vicinity  of  other  than  himself.  William  White  and 
Smoky  Billings  drew  back  from  the  more  exposed  posi- 
tion they  had  occupied  in  the  chance  view  of  any  ap- 
Droaehing  the  spot,  and,  in  doing  so,  were  compelled  to 
momentarily  lose  sight  of  the  leader  of  the  outlaws. 

Several  men,  where  two  had  but  recently  parted 
from  Black  Hand  at  the  rock,  were  dimly  seen  approach- 
ing in  the  lane.  The  newcomers  entered  the  ruined 
building,  and  their  footsteps  sounding  in  the  echoing 
place  to  those  without,  they  were  seen,  by  White  and 
Smoky,  who  had  resumed  their  former  point  of  watch- 
fulness, to  emerge  into  view  by  the  side  of  the  myster- 
ious reader  of  the  paper.  The  latter  article  must  have 
been  hastily  secreted,  for  the  outlaw,  when  next  ob- 
served by  the  watchers,  gave  no  evidence  of  its  posses- 
sion. 

The  leader  of  the  outlaws  stood  facing  the  others.  He 
presented  a  striking  figure.  He  was  short,  compactly 
built,  powerful  and  muscular.  Accentuating  his  broad, 
black  slouch   hat  and   his   great  black   beard,    were   a 


f  HE  OLD  MILL.  327 

coarse,  dark  blue  flaiinel  shirt  and  corduroys  thrust  into 
heavy  riding  boots.  A  large,  ugly  Colt's  revolver  was 
belted  to  his  hip.  His  companions  were  dressed  in  var- 
ious styles  of  roufh  country  garb,  proclaiming  un- 
couthness  and  nativ^  ruffianism. 

"See  here,"  said  the  leader,  when  he  had  been  joined 
by  the  new  arrivals  (who,  in  their  disguised  appear- 
ances, supplied  to  Smoky  Billings  and  William  White  no 
means  of  identifying  any  two  with  the  former  occu- 
pants of  the  farm  wagon),  "I  reckon  ye 're  ter  un'er- 
stan'  this  here  ^ame,  here  an'  now,  fer  th'  las'  time," 
the  speaker  had  singled  out  one  of  those  who  had  re- 
cently arrived,  and  addressed  him  with  a  threatening 
emphasis.  The  remaining  ruffians  stood  aside  and  left 
their  companions  alone.  "Fu'st,  I  tell  ye,  so's  all  may 
know,  'at  we  don't  make  no  war  on  wimen.  Ye've,  all 
uv  ye,  heerd  thet,  afore,  an'  un'erstan's  it  ag'in. "  Even 
this  redeeming  trait  in  the  strange  character  of  Jason 
Jump,  the  Black  Hank  of  his  day,  was  finally  lost,  and, 
before  the  end  and  the  tragic  fate  which  at  last  overtook 
the  famed  outlaw,  was  engulfed  in  the  abyss  of  misery, 
wretchedness  and  evil  which  swept  over  his  agonized 
and  tortured  soul.  "That,  though,"  continued  the 
talker,  his  manner  assuming  the  appearance  of  a  kind 
of  rude  and  solemn  tribune,  "ain't  the  reel  occasion  uv 
yer  bein'  brung  ter  jestice. " 

"Ye've  ketched  me  in  a  trap,"  exclaimed  the  man, 
on  whom  had  been  bestowed  the  robber's  remarks,  and 
manifesting  his  first  fear  in  the  consciousness  of  be- 
trayal. He  darted  a  quick,  alarmed  glance  around.  The 
dark  and  forbidding  countenances  that  met  his  startled 
gaze  confirmed  his  affrighted  suspicion.  His  air  be- 
came dogged,  then  propitiatory;  after  that,  cool,  de- 
fiant. 


328  TPIE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"I  didn't  do  nothin'  to  De  Braddock — on'y  tried  ter 
kiss  'er,"  growled  the  fellow,  taking  a  chew  of  tobacco. 

"Yer  a-waylayin'  De  Braddock,  t'other  day,"  went 
on  the  offender's  ominous  judge,  "hain't  the  whole 
p'int,  ez  ye  pufectly  well  knows.  "Ye 're  a  traitor,  an' 
ye  tried  to  betray  us,  an'  'ware  Thrash  Thatcher  an'  his 
doom — you,  &n'  that  tramp,  too,  ef  we  ketch  'im!" 

Smoky  Billings,  in  the  night  without,  was  duly  sen- 
sible of  this  thoughtful  and  expressive  inclusion  of  him- 
self in  the  outlaw's  humane  intentions. 

Whether  the  culprit  before  this  darkling  tribunal 
had  before  this  been  aware  of  the  full  extremity  of  his 
threatened  danger  or  not,  he  here  showed  no  departure 
from  his  previous  composure.  His  coolness  rather  in- 
creased. He  looked  around  at  the  stern,  silent  figures 
by  which  he  was  surrounded. 

"I  b'lieve,"  he  drawled  without  show  of  excitement, 
"  'at  ye  killed  Thrash  Thatcher." 

"Bind  him,"  said  the  leader,  turning  to  the  others 
standing  off  apace. 

The  man  who  had  incurred  the  penalty  of  death  was 
near  the  lantern  placed  upon  the  floor.  With  a  sudden, 
swift  movement  of  the  foot,  he  sent  the  light  flying  and 
the  place  was  in  darkness.  Oaths,  the  sound  of  scurry- 
ing feet  and  angry  and  excited  exclamations,  in  the  old 
building,  followed  this  bold  and  daring  act,  on  the  part 
of  the  endangered  freebooter.  White  and  Smoky,  whose 
first  impulse  was  of  relief  at  the  promised  escape  of  the 
outlaw,  crouched  breathlessly  where  they  were.  With 
startling  and  sudden  abruptness,  a  form,  seen  but 
vaguely  in  the  outside  obscurity,  shot  from  a  rear  win- 
dow of  the  mill  and  dropped  silently  like  a  plummet 
fully  twenty  feet  to  a  sandy  bar  in  the  dry  bed  of  the 
creek;  and,  apparently  uninjured  by  its  courageous  and 
successful  leap,  sped  like  the  wind  along  the  channel's 


THE  OLD  MILL.  329 

bottom  in  the  direction  of  the  main  road,  which  the 
stream's  bed  traversed  at  no  great  distance  from  the 
point  where  the  flying  figure  had  first  reached  the  ' 
ground.  Flaming  matches  danced  in  the  ruined  old  mill 
structure  where,  before,  darkness,  the  result  of  the  ex- 
tinguished lantern's  light,  had  reigned. 

"They'll  beat  the  woods,"  said  White',  "we  must  get 
away. ' ' 

The  suggestion  was  timely,  for  the  men  without 
heard  Black  Hank,  with  an  outburst  of  profanity,  ex- 
claim, 

"Boys,  git  outside.  He's  giv'  us  th'  slip  in  th'  dark." 

The  watchers  could  hear  the  dash  of  many  feet 
speeding  for  the  front  of  the  building,  while  a  last  flash- 
ing taper  showed  the  robber  chieftain  making  a  final 
hurried  inspection  of  the  premises  before  leaving.  White 
and  Billings  had  no  more  than  time  to  hastily  withdraw 
from  view,  when  the  outlaws  burst  into  sight  in  the 
lane.  They  were  almost  immediately  joined  by  Black 
Hank.  At  this  point,  however,  they  paused.  The  com- 
motion and  confusion  caused  by  the  action  of  their  vic- 
tim in  kicking  over  the  lantern  had  prevented  any  indi- 
cation attracting  attention  to  the  possible  exit  by  way  ol 
the  window,  and  it  now,  for  the  first  time,  occurred  to 
the  chief  of  the  miscreants  that  an  escape  might  have 
been  effected  in  that  direction.  Quickly  ordering  one  of 
his  men  into  the  dry  creek,  the  leader  and  the  remaining 
ruffians  began  a  rapid  though  systematic  search  of  the 
immediate  vicinity.  The  situation  of  White  and  Billings 
had  now  become  critical.  If  found,  they  well  knew  what 
would  be  their  instantaneous  fate.  There  would  be  no 
trial.  Sudden  and  swift  death  would  be  their  portion. 
The  searcher  sent  to  the  creek  must  pass  close  to  their 
hiding  place.  He  stumbled  over  the  broken  rocks  near 
them.    It  looked  as  if  they  were  safe.    His  foot  caught; 


330  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

he  swerved  to  avoid  the  obstruction,  and  in  doing  so  was 
face  to  face  with  Smoky  Billings,  who  foreseeing  the 
course  the  mishap  would  cause  the  man  to  take  had  in- 
stinctively sprung  forward  to  silence  their  discoverer. 
Billings'  powerful  seaman's  hold  had  the  surprised  des- 
perado by  the  throat,  ere  the  latter  could  make  outcry, 
while  before  his  captive's  astonished  wits  could  recover 
themselves  the  sailor  had  dealt  the  ruffian  a  blow  just 
under  the  ear  with  his  free  hand  clenched  like  a  huge 
ball  of  iron,  and,  without  a  sound,  the  stricken  man 
crumpled  up  like  a  leaf  and  sank  as  the  victor,  still 
grasping  his  throat,  eased  him  noiselessly  to  the  ground, 
in  a  crushed  heap  at  his  silencer's  feet. 

"Now,  for  it,  Mr.  White,"  said  Smoky,  seizing  his 
companion  by  the  arm  and  reaching  the  bank  of  the  dry 
stream  bed,  but  a  few  feet  away,  almost  at  the  same  in- 
stant. Into  this  they  descended,  finding  the  high  em- 
bankment steep,  rough  and  difficult. 

At  the  bottom  they  crouched,  for  a  moment,  and 
White  muttered  in  Smoky's  ear, 

"If  we  could  only  secure  that  paper,  Billings, — 
what  he  said  about  'the  Smithin  case:'  that  paper  had 
something  to  do  with  Zeke's  murder." 

"Er  ef  we  could  on'y  git  the  feller,  himself.  Can't 
be  helped,  sir,"  rejoined  Smoky  Billings  regretfully; 
"nothin'  more  kin  be  did,  now." 

Their  danger  was  still  imminent.  At  any  moment 
those  scouring  the  lane  and  its  neighborhood  might  find 
reason,  in  the  continued  silence  of  their  scout  companion 
or  the  supposed  necessity  of  uniting  in  a  common  quest, 
for  following  the  outlaw  whose  form  lay  still  and  quiet 
on  the  rocks  above.  To  add  to  their  increasing  danger 
moonrise  was  at  hand.  They  stole  silently  down  the  ex- 
hausted path  of  the  stream,  keeping  in  the  deeper  ob- 
scurity of  the  rugged  banks,  and  had  nearly  reached 


THE  OLD  MILL.  331 

the  highway,  when  there  sounded  the  sharp  report  of 
firearms.  White  was  in  advance,  in  the  step  it  took  to 
reach  the  road,  and  seeing  no  signs  of  human  presence 
dashed  swiftly  across  the  way,  with  Smoky  following,  to 
gain  the  protection  of  the  wood  where,  further  up,  they 
had  left  their  horses. 

"There  he  is,"  shouted  a  voice,  as  its  owner  caught 
a  fleeting  glimpse  of  Smoky's  figure  just  disappearing 
among  the  trees,  where  White  had  succeeded  in  getting 
unseen.  The  outlaw  quickly  and  threateningly  re- 
inforced his  words,  and  his  first  shot  at  some  object  evi- 
dently taken  in  the  shadows  for  the  escaping  robber, 
with  a  harmless  winger  at  Billings. 

Smoky  Billings  stooped,  and  grasping  a  large  stone 
ran  swiftly  under  cover  of  the  wood  up  the  creek's  bank. 
With  great  force,  he  hurled  the  object  in  his  hand  far 
above  in  the  stream's  empty  bed,  where  it  fell  clattering 
and  echoing  among  its  kindred  rocks.  He  rapidly  cir- 
cled back  and  joined  William  White  just  as  the  latter, 
with  a  throb  of  alarm,  had  discovered  his  follower's  ab- 
sence. 

"Listen,"  said  Smoky  gleefully  and  stealthily. 

The  ruse  had  been  successful,  and  the  outlaws  were 
heard  to  turn  into  the  creek  and  rush  up  its  course  in 
the  direction  of  the  sound  which  had  followed  Smoky's 
artful  device. 

In  a  comparatively  unfamiliar  locality,  in  the  dark- 
ness and  without  arms,  what  could  be  done  to  secure, 
circumvent  or  thwart  the  miscreants?  In  an  attempt  to 
supply  a  satisfactory  solution  to  this  question,  involving 
as  it  did  the  unexplained  paper  in  relation  to  the  death 
of  Zeke  Smithin,  White  lingered  as  long  as  possible. 
Reluctantly,  at  last  he  committed  the  interest  to  the 
future,  and,  obeying  on  Smoky's  part  a  careful  sugges- 
tion, the  horses  were  reached. 


332  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

After  all,  breathing  more  freely  the  two  men  were 
soon  in  the  road,  galloping  away  from  the  dangerous 
vicinity  of  their  late  adventures.  As  they  made  a  wide 
detour  and  entered  the  town  they  had  a  few  hours  before 
left,  the  moon  was  flooding  the  earth  with  a  wondrous 
glory  and  midnight  marked  the  hour. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 


MONA    WALKER,    THE    PRETTY    HOUSEKEEPER,    BRINGS    BRAD 
SIMONS    TO    AN    UNDERSTANDING. 

Brad  Simons  was  at  breakfast.  The  sun  was  bright, 
in  the  heavens  without,  and  nature  and  the  world  alike 
smiled  and  were  beautiful.  Simons  gazed  through  the 
morning  glory  vines  trained  by  !Mona  Walker  over  the 
window  affording  the  prosperous  cattle  raiser  and  farm- 
er a  view  of  his  fat  and  fertile  lands  beyond.  He  toyed 
with  his  coffee  cup.  The  pretty  housekeeper  came  and 
went,  and  wrinkled  up  her  brows  in  an  expression  of 
thought.  Unknown  to  the  silent  cattleman,  she  was 
thinking,  upon  somewhat  different  lines,  of  the  same 
concerns  at  that  moment  affecting  Simons'  understand- 
ing. Mona  Walker  had  for  some  time  observed  that 
Brad  Simons  was  drifting  dangerously  near  a  threaten- 
ing and  fatal  maelstrom  of  sentiment,  which  the  pretty 
housekeeper  needed  no  extra  strength  of  a  pretty  house- 
keeper's powers  of  divination  to  perceive  was  Simons' 
relations  to  De  Braddock.  Mona  was  not  pleased.  She 
had  long  been  led  to  suppose  that  Brad  intended  mak- 
ing herself  his  blameless  and  efficient  wife, 

Simons  mused  aloud. 

"I've  plenty.  I  could  settle  something  on  Mona, — 
she'll  give  me  trouble  on  that  marriage  promise,  if  I 
don't.  Wonder  what  that  scoundrel  Jump  did  with  it, 
anyway  ?  But,  I  've  plenty  —  plenty.  I  'm  rich.  If  I 
could  get  the  wife  I  want,  I  could  easily  afford  to  spend 
the   balance   of   my   life   enjoying   myself.     We   could 

333 


334  THE  CAVEKNS  OF  DAWN. 

travel,  too — go  abroad.  De  Braddock  is  a  woman  of 
intellect — "  and  the  dreaming  man  was  once  more 
silent. 

Mona  Walker,  standing  in  an  adjoining  room,  the 
door  of  which  opening  into  the  eating  room  stood  ajar, 
lingered  with  an  intent  and  listening  expression  on  her 
pleasing  face  as  Simons  was  heard  to  fall  into  his  musing 
soliloquy.  The  housekeeper,  with  discreet  art,  said  noth- 
ing, as  she  gathered  the  full  meaning  of  the  stock 
raiser's  words.  Like  a  very  wise,  as  well  as  a  very  good 
looking  young  woman,  she  went  about  the  further  sup- 
plies for  her  sentimental  employer's  morning  meal. 

"]\Ir.  Simons,"  said  a  voice — a  musical  and  perfectly 
respectful  voice — at  length  breaking  in  upon  Brad's 
happy  reverie. 

Simons  turned  in  his  seat. 

In  an  attitude  of  quiet  self  possession,  ]\Iona  Walker 
stood  facing  him. 

"Did  you  speak?"  asked  Simons  as,  gazing  a  trifle 
blankly  at  the  young  woman,  he  came  out  of  his  dreams 
in  much  the  same  way  as  any  other  dreamer  comes  out 
of  his.  The  magic  of  Mona's  wonderful  oriole  of  burn- 
ished, glowing  hair  still  worked  its  witchery  in  Simons' 
blood. 

"Yes,  I  spoke,"  simply  replied  the  woman,  with  a 
touch  of  dignity,  ' '  and  I  would  thank  you  to  listen  to  me, 
a  moment,  if  you  have  the  time  to  spare,"  the  speaker 
expressed  herself  much  as  anyone  having  a  matter  which 
only  required  presentation  to  secure  approval  and  adop- 
tion would  have  spoken. 

Bradford  Simons  very  graciously  unbent  and  in- 
formed his  housekeeper  that  he  would  be  pleased  to 
hear  her  statement. 

"You  are  not  going  to  marry  De  Braddock,"  with 
startling   abruptness,   announced   Mona   Walker,    while 


MONA  SETTLES  BRAD.  335 

maintaining  her  demeanor  of  quiet  conviction  as  to  Si- 
mon's acceptance  and  endorsement  of  her  views. 

Had  two  or  three  of  the  bombshells  plentifully 
hurled  about  like  footl)alls,  a  little  before  that  time,  by  a 
number  of  mistaken  players  both  north  and  south  in  the 
game  of  war,  fallen  from  the  sky,  through  Brad's  roof 
and  ceilings,  and  landed  upon  the  coffee  cup  poised,  in 
the  cattle  dealer's  hand,  under  the  cattle  dealer's  nose 
in  the  act  of  drinking,  there  could  hardly  have  been  a 
more  startling  and  more  convincing  result.  The  cup 
of  coffee  was  set  down  so  violently  in  its  saucer  by  the 
surprised  forces  of  Mr.  Simons '  mental  fortress,  that  the 
hot  coffee  was  flung  wildly  up  like  the  eruption  of  the 
famous  crater  at  Petersburg  during  our  Civil  Contro- 
versy, and  the  saucer,  with  a  shock,  was  split  in  two 
where  a  previous  crack  had  rendered  it  especially  sus- 
ceptible to  this  mode  of  concussion. 

The  pretty  housekeeper,  to  keep  the  embattled  simile 
alive  another  moment,  stood  and  watched  the  havoc 
wrought  by  the  enemy's  shell,  with  a  touch  of  growing 
scorn  and  contempt  lighting  up  her  pretty  and  express- 
ive features ;  and  at  last  said,  as  quietly  as  ever  : 

''Your  temper  is  quite  as  masterful  as  usual." 

"What  do  you  mean — what  do  you  mean?"  choked 
and  spluttered  the  stock  raiser,  getting  red  in  the  face — 
"v/hat,"  he  stammered,  as  he  gradually  recovered 
speech,  "I  say,  do  you  mean?" 

"Your  infatuation  for  De  Braddock,  who  is  too  good 
for  you,  by  the  way,  has  added  a  touch  of  mental  de- 
rangement to  your  naturally  angelic  disposition,"  re- 
plied JMona  with  agreeable  irony.  "Now,  Mr.  Simons, 
when,  through  a  wholly  unaccountable  impulse,  I  con- 
sented to  leave  school  teaching  and  become  your  house- 
keeper, I  did  not  do  it  with  any  intention  of  permitting 
the  superior  money  considerations  you  offered  me  to  take 


336  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

charge  of  your  home  blind  me  to  certain  other  rights  I 
have  entertained  by  reason  of  proiiiises  entered  into,  on 
your  part,  in  regard  to  yourself  and  myself.  It  is  un- 
fortunate that  the  written  agreement  to  marry  me  was 
stolen  from  the  bank,  but  you  are  not  going  to  marry  De 
Braddock." 

The  full,  rotund  visage  of  Simons  wore  the  appear- 
ance of  about  to  usher  in  an  apoplectic  fit  upon  its  full 
blooded  and  high  tempered  possessor. 

Wholly  undisturbed.  i\Iona  looked  on  with  a  smiling 
and  amused  face. 

Finally,  his  sudden  attack  of  spleen  seeming  to  sub- 
side, the  stockman  composed  somewhat  his  distorted  and 
working  countenance. 

"As  you  say,"  he,  at  length,  managed  to  articulate 
thickly,  "these  attacks  of  temper  Avill  drive  me  beside 
myself,  some  day;  in  which  event,"  added  the  man  with 
a  wicked  look  at  the  laughing  woman,  ' '  take  care ! — oh, 
you  needn't  laugh, — I'd  do  it,  in  a  minute,"  said  he, 
giving  tongue  to  some  unuttered  and  deadly  thought, 
"I  would." 

At  this,  the  woman  burst  into  a  peal  of  laughter,  that 
sounded  over  the  house  and  smote  the  hearer  with  its 
note  of  sharp  defiance.  The  man  glared  impotently  for 
a  moment  at  the  form  beside  him,  and  went  on, 

"This  temper '11  be  the  death  of  me,"  and  panting, 
with  a  quick  seizure  of  shortness  of  breath  and  vertigo, 
he  dragged  and  tugged  at  his  collar,  while  the  house- 
keeper coolly  and  unconcernedly  handed  him  a  glass  of 
water. 

Simons  drank  some  of  the  water,  and  set  the  glass 
on  the  table. 

"Now!"  presently  said  Simons,  gazing  into  the  calm 
and  serene  face  of  the  woman,  and  referring,  as  the 


MONA  SETTLES  BRAD.  337 

housekeeper  well  knew,  to  his  purpose  with  regard  to  De 
Braddock;  "how  are  you  going  to  prevent  it?" 

"That  I  shall  not  tell  you,"  replied  the  other,  as 
though,  notwithstanding,  the  ways  and  means  were  se- 
curely fixed  upon;  "but  I  have  this,  also,  i\Ir.  Simons, 
to  say, —  De  Braddock  cares  no  more  for  you  tlian  my 
little  fmger,  and  William  White — " 

Mona  paused,  with  really  an  instinct  of  alarm,  at 
the  sudden  and  renewed  evidence  of  Simons'  fit  of  rage. 

"  I  '11  kill  him, ' '  hoarsely  articulated  the  livid  man. 

"There,  there,"  said  the  housekeeper,  as  she  might 
have  spoken  to  a  spoiled  child, — "no  you  won't." 

"I'll  kill  him,  and  I'll  kill  you,"  cried  the  man,  his 
face  working  violently. 

"I  repeat,"  retorted  the  woman,  gazing  with  a 
strong,  steady  look  into  Simons'  face,  "that  you'll  do 
nothing  of  the  kind.  You'll  kill  neither  William  Wliite 
nor  myself.  But  I  '11  say  this  to  end  the  matter,  that  De 
Braddock  loves  William  White,  and  she'll  marry  him," 
and  the  speaker  quietly  left  the  room. 

Simons,  alone,  with  his  face  turned  in  the  direction 
of  the  departing  housekeeper,  stared  in  a  fascinated  gaze 
at  the  open  door  by  which  she  had  effected  her  decisive 
not  to  say  satisfactory  exit.  How  long  he  would  have 
remained  in  this  attitude,  had  he  not  been  disturbed,  it 
would  be  impossible  to  say.  The  sound  of  voices  in  the 
yard  without  aroused  him,  and  muttering, 

"Those  d — n  drovers,"  he  rose  from  the  breakfast 
table,  and  passed  out  of  the  house.  As  he  left  the  break- 
fast room,  he,  a  second  time,  muttered  to  himself,  with 
deeper  and  more  enduring  oaths  and  an  emphasis  there 
wsa  no  mistaking : 

"I'll  do  it — and,  if  she  pushes  me,  I'll  do  her.  But, 
by  G — !  I  '11  do  White, ' '  and,  with  this  ominous  threat, 
•Simons  was  seen  to  draw  apart  with  his  villainous  Ipok- 


338  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

ing  assistants,  in  a  manner,  that,  had  its  import  been 
known,  would  have  been  found  to  bode  no  good  to  Will- 
iam White. 

Another  had  come  into  the  yard  besides  the  drovers. 
That  other  was  Parson  Woods,  pausing  for  a  neighborly- 
call  in  passing,  and  especially  conferring  his  visit  upon 
Mona  Walker,  in  whom  the  minister  had  lately  displayed 
a  deep  and  growing  professional  if  not  personal  inter- 
est; and  been  gratified  to  find  that  interest  not  wholly 
objectionable  to  the  fair  and  intelligent  object  of  it. 

Brad,  Brad !  could  you  but  be  warned,  in  time. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 


A    TREACHEROUS    AND    MURDEROUS    ASSAULT. 

White,  in  dressing  gown  and  slippers,  was  sitting, 
one  evening,  alone,  in  his  room.  Cozy  quarters,  by  the 
joint  aid  of  the  feminine  tact  and  taste  of  Widow  Walm- 
sey  and  his  own  inclinations,  had  been  fitted  up  for  the 
toiling  and  faithful  writer's  accommodation.  The  apart- 
ment was  upon  the  second  floor  and  was  large  and 
roomy.  A  lighted  lamp  rested  upon  a  comfortable  writ- 
ing table.  A  bookcase,  containing  a  few  select  volumes 
supplying  an  author's  wants,  took  up  a  narrow  width 
of  wall  to  the  right  of  the  table.  The  room  possessed  a 
neat  home  made  carpet  known,  singularly  with  a  popu- 
lar phase  of  modern  music,  as  the  rag  variety;  and  an 
old  fashioned,  high  four-post  bedstead,  in  a  corner  of  the 
apartment,  was  appointed  with  clean  white  linen,  to- 
gether with  the  old  time  piece-quilt  counterpane.  Here 
and  there  upon  his  walls,  the  young  bachelor  had  maga- 
zine prints  of  the  day — one  of  a  horse — another  of  a  boat 
race, — still  another  of  a  fashionably  dressed  and  dashing 
young  woman  of  the  period,  who  was  enjoyably  dislocat- 
ing her  spine  in  a  '"Grecian  bend,"  a  fascinating  and 
appealing  pose  of  the  day  delightfully  corresponding  to 
the  equally  "fetching"  "kangaroo  hump"  of  our  more 
modern  sanity.  On  the  wall,  above  his  writing  table, 
was  a  framed  miniature  of  De.  Beneath  the  latter. 
White  had  arranged  his  several  different  kinds  of  pipes 
— a  long  stemmed  white  English  clay — a  churchwarden 
— side  by  side  with  a  plain  American  cob ;  and,  blending 

339 


340  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

with  its  less  costly  neighbors,  a  handsome  meerschaum, 
a  present  from  De  Braddock,  reared  its  carved  lion's 
crest  from  the  center  of  the  group  of  smoker's  solaces. 

The  night  was  warm;  the  windows  were  up,  and  the 
smell  of  the  country  evening  filled  the  room. 

The  door  opened  and  Smoky  Billings  hurriedly  en- 
tered. 

"Cap'n,"  exclaimed  Billings,  who  was  quite  pale, 
** there's  a  feller,  do\vTi  stairs,  'at  says  a  accident's  hap- 
pened to  Peter  Braddock  an'  Miss  De." 

"What! — where?"  cried  White,  springing  to  his 
feet. 

"DoAvn  the  road.  Hosses  run  off,"  answered  Smoky 
Billings,  displaying  an  excitement  and  concern  equal  to 
if  not  exceeding  Wliite  's  own. 

"Are  they  hurt?"  queried  the  literary  man,  anx- 
iously seeking  for  his  coat,  hat  and  shoes. 

"Can't  tell.  Feller  kind  o'  dumb  headed,"  Smoky 
replied,  hastily  assisting  William  White  in  his  rapid  ar- 
rangements, drawing  off  the  writer's  dressing  gown,  and 
supplying,  in  general,  the  missing  arm. 

"Get  my  horse,"  finally  said  Wliite,  running  from 
the  room  and  do^^Ti  stairs,  where,  followed  by  Billings, 
he  found  the  messenger  who  had  brought  the  distracting 
tidings  of  mischance. 

The  fellow,  slouchy,  rough,  with  an  unmistakably 
evil  cast  of  the  eye,  and  a  mouth  about  which  streams  of 
tobacco  juice,  from  time  to  time,  had  left  plentiful  traces 
of  irrigation,  stood  silently  waiting  in  the  dooryard 
without. 

"What  it  is.  Bill?"  cried  White,  recognizing  the 
man  as  a  well  known  character  about  the  vicinity. 

"They're  dumped,"  replied  Bill  speaking  with  what 
might  have  appeared  to  White,  under  any  other  cir- 
cumstances,  a   singularly   evasive   and    furtive    look, — 


A  TREACHEROUS  ASSAULT.  341 

''they're  dumped  in  thuh  road  below,"  the  speaker 
threw  out  his  arm  to  the  south  to  indicate  that  s«/rae- 
where  in  that  direction  Uncle  Peter  Braddock  and  the 
object  of  White's  heart's  best  affections  were  in  trouble. 

"How'd  it  happen?"  White's  next  question  follow- 
ing, as  he  reappeared  from  the  house  where  he  had  been 
after  a  customary  and  forgotten  weapon. 

"Comin'  up  frum  town,  ye  see — "  said  the  man, 
when  Smoky  Billings,  who,  with  almost  incredible  de- 
spatch, had  saddled  William  White's  horse  for  him,  was 
at  the  gate  interrupting  the  messenger's  speech. 

"Come!"  exclaimed  the  writer,  vaulting  into  the 
saddle;  "we'll  talk  on  the  go." 

"I'll  come,  Mr.  White,"  cried  Smoky,  "if  I  kin  git 
a  boss." 

White  contented  himself  with  nodding  his  head 
quickly,  and  sat  on  his  horse  impatiently  waiting  for  the 
messenger  to  untie  his  own  animal  and  mount. 

As  Billings'  employer  and  the  latter 's  mounted  com- 
panion broke  into  a  gallop  down  the  road.  Smoky  moved 
swiftly  in  the  direction  of  the  fields  adjoining  Widow 
Walmsey's  little  patch  of  land. 

Where  Smoky  Billings  got  a  horse,  that  night,  is  not 
known;  though,  doubtless,  among  the  loose  stock  in  the 
neighboring  pastures  he  managed  to  find  a  mount ;  and, 
without  saddle  or  briddle, — having  but  a  rope  halter 
with  which  to  guide  the  animal, — Billings  was  not  long 
i'l  following  his  friend  and  chief. 

"Pretty  tough  looking  customer,  that,"  thought 
Smoky,  expressing  to  himself  an  opinion  of  the  messen- 
ger, and  urging  his  horse,  which  happened  to  be  but  a 
fairly  good  animal,  to  as  great  a  rate  of  speed  as  it  was 
capable  of  in  his  efforts  to  overtake  the  fleeter  progress 
of  the  two  horsemen  ahead. 


342  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"How  much  farther,  Bill?"  asked  De's  old  lover, 
following  some  time  of  swift  and  silent  riding. 

"Jes'  aroun'  the  bend  beyon'  the  run  crossin'  ther 
road,  at  Stoner's  grove,"  replied  the  other,  meaning 
that  they  were  bound  for  a  point  beyond  a  turn  in  the 
highway  a  little  distance  after  crossing  a  small  stream 
now  not  far  from  where  they  then  were. 

"See  Simons,  lately?"  inquired  the  literary  man, 
obeying,  in  the  asking  of  this  seemingly  singularly  timed 
question,  a  prompting  difficult  to  explain. 

Bill  looked  startled. 

"Uh — uh — "  he  stuttered,  in,  to  White's  sense,  a 
most  unusual  manner. 

White  glanced  at  him  curiously, 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  the  writer. 

' '  Nothin ', ' '  returned  the  other  hastily.  ' '  Seen  'im — 
Simons — t'other  day,"  continued  the  man  scowling, 
with  what  seemed  a  look  of  lowering  suspicion,  out  of 
the  corner  of  his  eye,  at  the  rider  moving  rapidly  at  his 
side.  "There's  the  place,"  he  growled,  as  a  thick  grove 
of  beech  came  in  sight. 

They  were  galloping  on  a  stretch  of  road  bordered 
by  cornfields  and,  now  and  then,  clumps  of  trees  close 
to  the  roadside.  The  way  was  level  and  ran  so  until,  en- 
tering more  extended  pieces  of  wood  on  either  side,  it 
declined  in  a  gentle  slope,  when  it  crossed  a  small  brook 
— fed,  in  drought,  by  a  celebrated  mineral  spring  in  that 
locality — and  which  traversed  the  highway  at  right 
angles.  At  this  point,  the  gloom  was  deeper  than  at 
others,  the  trees  growing  close  to  the  roadside  almost 
forming  an  arch  overhead  and  tending  to  obscure  what 
meager  light  came  from  the  stars. 

As  the  two  approached  the  wood,  William  White,  to 
whom  every  object  in  that  vicinity  was  as  familiar  as 
day,  was  affected  by  a  strange  thrill  of  unaccountable 


A  TREACHEROUS  ASSAULT.  343 

apprehension  at  the  somber  and  forbidding  aspect  of  the 
dark  opening  showing  between  the  sides  of  the  tree  lined 
way,  like  the  mouth  of  a  tunnel,  where  their  own  course 
plunged  into  the  denser  timber. 

Slightly  in  advance  of  his  companion,  White  here  en- 
tered the  stretch  which  ran  through  the  grove.  The 
hard  riding  man  took  no  notice,  or  he  would  have  seen 
the  faithless  messenger  silently  rein  in  his  horse  and  dis- 
appear among  the  trees  at  the  roadside.  The  writer  had 
reached  the  edge  of  the  small  stream  crossing  the  high- 
way, and  his  horse  had  placed  a  forefoot  in  the  water, 
with  a  jerking  decline  of  the  head  in  an  effort  to  reach  a 
drinking  place,  when,  from  the  right,  a  quick  flash  cut 
the  night,  and,  breaking  the  silence  of  the  wood,  a  shot 
rang  out.  White  heard  the  vicious  zing  of  a  bullet,  so 
familiar  to  the  ex-soldier's  ears,  go  by  so  close  to  his 
head  that  he  felt  the  brush  of  air  as  the  missle  fanned  his 
cheek.  The  horse  reared  wildly  with  fright,  and  the 
rider  taken  by  surprise  was  thrown  from  the  animal's 
back.  The  unhorsed  man  landed  upon  the  soft  earth  at 
the  margin  of  the  creek.  He  was  instantly  upon  his  feet, 
uninjured  save  for  a  bruise  or  two  and  a  thorough  shak- 
ing up.  As  White  rose,  the  horse,  loosed  from  his  mas- 
ter's hand,  bounded  into  the  stream  and,  dashing 
through  the  water,  went  careering  madly  up  the  road, 
where  turning  a  bend  the  animal  was  lost  to  sight. 

The  ex-soldier  instinctively  felt  for  his  revolver.  It 
had  been  lost  upon  the  road.  Struggling  to  his  feet,  he 
mechanically  grasped  a  large  stone,  now  his  only 
weapon.  He  swiftly  and  searehingly  scanned  the  wood 
in  front  of  him,  whence  had  seemed  to  come  the  report 
of  the  gun.  He  saw  no  one.  For  the  first  time,  White 
became  conscious  of  the  absence  of  Bill.  He  turned, 
twisting,  stooped  and  dodging  to  escape  further  fire,  and 


344  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

made  for  the  trees  in  his  rear.  The  semi  darkness  great. 
ly  favored  his  escape. 

As  the  writer  started  to  seek  shelter,  he  heard  some- 
one, who  had  evidently  emerged  into  the  open  road  be- 
hind him,  cry, 

"Ketch  him,  boys,  ner  he'll  gin'  us  ther  slip." 

White  was  fleetly  covering  the  few  paces  between 
himself  and  the  friendly  cover  at  the  roadside,  when  his 
footing  slipped,  and  he  came  near  falling.  As  he 
wheeled  and  straightened,  one  man  was  at  him.  Two 
more  were  coming  from  the  wood  across  the  way.  The 
first  ruffian  held,  clubbed  above  his  head,  a  squirrel  rifle. 
He  brought  it  down  with  terrific  force.  White  sprang 
nimbly  to  one  side,  and  the  gun  carried  on  by  the  tre- 
mendous momentum  which  it  had  received  struck  the 
ground,  the  fierce  impact  breaking  the  stock  and  dashing 
the  formidable  instrument  from  the  owner's  grasp. 
White  struck  the  man  a  crushing  blow  on  the  head  \nth 
the  stone  he  still  held,  stunning  and  knocking  his  assail- 
ant down.  The  others  sprang  at  the  one  armed  soldier. 
The  latter 's  one  weapon  had  loosened  and  flo\\Ti  from 
his  fingers. 

As  has  been  somewhere  before  remarked,  William 
White  was  very  muscular  and  an  athlete,  having  trained 
extensively  in  his  college  days,  and  he  put  forth  all  his 
strength  and  skill.  His  one  arm  shot  straight  from  the 
shoulder  at  the  approaching  leader  of  the  two  remaining 
miscreants.  His  fist  caught  the  object  of  his  blow 
squarely  upon  the  tip  of  the  chin  and  dropped  the  fellow 
like  a  log.  In  the  language  of  the  ring,  it  was  a  ' '  knock 
out,"  and  the  man  lay  without  consciousness.  The 
writer  now  had  but  one  to  deal  with,  but  the  latter,  pro- 
fiting by  the  instant  of  time  taken  in  the  defeat  of  his 
last  companion,  threw  himself  upon  the  assaulted  man, 
and  clasping  him  ■wdth  both  arms  about  the  body,  fast- 


A  TREACHEROUS  ASSAULT.  345 

ened  White 's  one  arm  to  his  side,  leaving  the  captive  like 
a  trussed  and  skewered  fowl  awaiting  roasting.  The  en- 
suing struggle  was  a  fierce  one  mixed  with  oaths  from 
White's  antagonist,  who,  different  from  his  silent  foe, 
was  thus  badly  "winding"  himself;  but  whose  arms, 
encircling  the  writer,  seemed,  to  the  latter,  to  bind  like 
iron  about  his  ribs.  The  pinioned  victim  maintained  an 
unbroken  silence.  At  last,  by  a  nearly  superhuman  ef- 
fort, he  succeeded  in  getting  his  one  arm  free  from  the 
other's  embrace,  and  instantly  darted  the  liberated  hand 
at  the  brawny  neck  of  his  foe.  It  is  said,  and  with 
equal  truth,  that  the  power  of  any  lost  member  of  the 
human  body  goes  into  its  surviving  mate.  White's 
strength  of  arm  seemed  to  partake  of  the  nature  of  that 
of  a  giant — a  Hercules.  The  disguise  worn  in  common 
with  the  others  by  his  present  opponent,  at  this  moment, 
fell  from  the  latter 's  face,  and  the  one  armed  fighter 
recognized  the  man  who  had  decoyed  him  hither.  The 
ruffian's  familiar  and  malignant  features  were  all  that 
were  necessary  to  inflame  the  sight  and  deadly  deter- 
mination of  the  maddened  soldier  to  a  final  pitch  of  un- 
relenting death. 

The  athletic  writer  was  panting, — as  he  fastened  his 
fingers  in  his  assailant's  throat,  every  muscle  in  his  own 
body  swelling;  the  other,  likewise,  was  beginning  to 
show  punishment. 

"So,  Bill,  it's  you,  is  it?"  said  White  shutting  his 
teeth,  and  concentrating  all  his  power  in  the  grip  jf  his 
fingers,  until  the  wretch  in  his  grasp  gasped  for  breath. 
Faint  and  dying,  the  choking  man  loosened  his  hold 
upon  his  antagonist's  body  and,  with  both  hands, 
clutched  at  his  adversary's  fingers  closed  in  a  deathlike 
grip  upon  his  throat.  As  the  man's  hands  sought 
Wliite's  grasp,  the  latter,  wdth  a  quick  movement  of  his 
right  foot  learned  in  his  wrestling  days  at  college,  trip- 


346  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

ped  his  foe,  and  the  ruffian  went  down  with  a  crash.  The 
man  attempted  to  rise.  White  threw  himself  upon  him, 
and  again  bore  him  to  the  earth  where,  once  more  fasten- 
ing his  hold  in  the  man's  throat,  he  slowly  compressed  it 
until  the  fellow's  tongue  protuded  from  his  mouth.  Try 
as  the  latter  would,  he  found  himself  unable  to  loosen 
those  hooks  of  steel  pressing  out  his  life.  The  fixed  and 
immovable  strength  of  the  practiced  athlete  was  pinning 
the  writhing  man  to  the  earth  like,  when  a  death-dealing 
transfix  is  passed  through  the  body  of  an  insect,  it  is 
held  in  eternal  rigor  and  fate. 

White's  prostrate  foe  was  rapidly  losing  conscious- 
ness beneath  the  iron  pressure  of  the  writer's  grip, 
when  one  of  the  two  who  had  been  previously  disabled, 
slowly  recovering  his  senses,  rose  to  his  elbow.  He  gazed 
about  him.  With  an  oath,  he  perceived  the  victorious 
man  kneeling  upon  the  body  of  his  accomplice,  and 
staggered  to  his  feet. 

The  sound  of  galloping  horses  came  faintly  from  up 
the  road.    White  saw  the  last  man  gain  his  footing.    He 
felt  his  own  strength,  great  as  it  had  been,  had  reached 
its  limit.    He  shouted, 
"Murder!" 

As  the  newly  risen  ruffian  made  a  lunge  to  reach  his 
foe,  the  latter  involuntarily  uprose  to  meet  his  new  as- 
sailant, and  left  Bill  lying  still  and  motionless  upon  the 
earth. 

The  sound  of  galloping  horses  grew  louder. 
And  the  two  were  locked  in  a  death  struggle.  White 
was  down — now  up,   and  the   other  underneath — then 
they  rolled  over  upon  the  ground,  and  White's  oppo- 
nent was  on  top. 

Clearer  and  louder  sounded  the  horses'  feet  upon  the 
hardened  roadway. 


A  TREACHEROUS  ASSAULT.  347 

Wliite  had  no  breath  to  spare.  He  heard  the  hoof- 
beats,  and  tugged  and  strained  at  his  foe. 

Two  riders  dashed  upon  the  scene. 

They  leaped  from  their  horses,  and  Smoky  Billings, 
who,  by  chance,  had  been  joined  by  Bob  Likkum,  seized 
the  man  struggling  with  the  hard  pressed  writer,  while 
Likkum  sprang  at  another  rising  from  the  ground.  The 
latter  turned  and  fled  into  the  woods.  Deeming  it  un- 
advisable  to  follow,  Likkum  assisted  White  to  his  feet, 
where  the  "hero  of  the  fray"  stood  recovering  his 
breath. 

Billings  coolly  proceeded  to  attend  to  the  man  just 
deposed  from  his  seat  of  power  on  "William  Wliite 's 
chest. 

White  slowly  regaining  powers  of  speech,  and  Lik- 
kum watching  him  do  it,  Bill  very  prudently  slipped 
away,  serpentwise  wriggling  upon  his  stomach  off  among 
the  trees,  having  unnoticed,  in  part,  revived  from  the 
effects  of  the  deadly  throttling  received  from  his  late 
adversary.  There  was  a  moment  of  disorder,  as  the 
murderous  ruffian  was  seen  to  disappear  in  the  wood, 
and  taking  advantage  of  it,  Smoky  Billings'  captive 
broke  from  the  detaining  grasp  of  Smoky,  first  hitting 
that  much  surprised  gentleman  smartly  upon  the  head, 
thereby  confusing  his  ideas  greatly. 

The  three  assailants  of  White  had  escaped. 

Bill  was  never,  again,  seen  in  that  locality. 

Brad  Simons  had  played  and  lost. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 


A  SUBTLE  SKEIN  IN  THE  WARP  AND  WOOF  THAT  FATE  WILL 

EVER  WEAVE — IS  EVER  WEAVING.      A  DOUBT.      NANCE 

AND  DE.      JOHN  BRADDOCK's  SISTER  YIELDS 

TO    BRAD    SIMONS. 

'  It  is  but  fair  to  say,  that  De  Braddock  was  still  in  a 
state  of  great  doubt  and  anxiety  over  her  brother's  com- 
ing trial  for  the  murder  of  Zeke  Smithin,  to  which  she 
had  been  wrought  up  by  the  remark  of  White  in  the  jail, 
that  someone  must  be  found  to  testify  to  an  alihi  for 
John.    Put  the  matter  as  she  would,  it  always  recurred 
to  the  same  point  of  view:     Anyone  who  could  supply 
such  aid,  and  did  not,  would  be  guilty  of  the  possible 
destruction  of  her  brother.     To  increase  the  confusion 
of  her  understanding,  the  additional  fact  insinuated  it- 
self,— that,  whatever  might  be  the  truth  or  falsity  of  the 
evidence  given  in  court  to  clear  her  brother,  it  would  still 
place  upon  him  or  her,  refusing  to  give  it,  the  responsi- 
bility of  consigning  the  jeopardized  man  to  a  fate  wholly 
beyond  her  terrified  powers  of  comprehension.    De  could 
be  brave  as  to  her  own  welfare,  but  she  trembled  and 
even  magnified  terrors,  like  many  another  courageous 
and  loving  soul,  when  the  well  being  of  those,  who  hold 
warm  and  abiding  place  in  the  heart,  is  at  stake.     Si- 
mons had  been  untiring  and  persistent,  and  only  waited 
what  seemed  to  him  a  suitable  opportunity  to  disclose 
some  definite  plan  of  succor  for  John,  and  thus  afford 
himself  a  reason  for  finally  claiming  her  discharge  of 
their  tacit  agreement  of  marriage.     Thus  wrenched  in 

348 


A  SKEIN  OF  FATE'S  WEAVING.  349 

her  love  for  her  brother,  she  spent  many  a  sleepless 
night  over  her  brooding  cares  and  fears.  The  deeper 
dye  of  the  red  rose  left  her  cheek,  and  the  way  looked 
dark  enough,  without  the  inevitable  and  unwelcome 
reappearance  of  the  scheming  and  detestable  Brad  Si- 
mons himself  upon  the  scene. 

It  was  but  accident  that,  again,  brought  her  and 
Brad  together  in  the  little  town  of  T . 

So  sensitive  was  De's  conscience,  religious  and  other- 
wise, that,  when  Simons  said  to  her,  "An  alibi  De,  and 
I  am  looking  for  one, — an  alibi  is  what  is  wanted,  now, 
most  of  all — an  alibi  to  clear  John,"  De  fell  into  re- 
newed trembling,  and  the  doubt  and  perplexity  of  her 
mind  reached  its  climax.  "An  alibi  I" — should  no  other 
one  but  herself  be  found,  would  she  not  have  to  be  the 
witness  to  one?  The  delicacy  of  her  nature  had  re- 
strained her,  up  to  this  time,  from  communicating  the 
filmy  vagaries  and  uncertainties  of  her  secret  hopes  and 
dreads  to  even  William  White  himself;  from  whom,  in 
the  high  esteem  in  which  the  girl  held  him,  unconsciously 
the  original  suggestion  now  animating  her  thoughts  to 
the  exculsion  of  all  else  had  emanated,  at  the  time  of 
their  visit  to  the  jail.  If  she  had  dreamed,  in  her  own 
personal  evidence,  of  manufacturing  the  testimony  that 
would  rescue  John  Braddock  from  his  threatened  dan- 
ger, the  thought  had  been  one  of  such  gravity  to  her 
acute  and  super-inflamed  condition  of  mind  that  she 
had  scarcely  permitted  herself  to  acknowledge  to  her 
own  soul,  much  less  to  another's,  the  enormity  of  such  a 
course. 

And  here  was  Brad  Simons — one  looking  actively,  in 
her  distinct  knowledge  and  his  own  statement  just  made 
to  her,  for  that  the  very  want  of  which  was  occasioning 
her  such  insupportable  unrest.  Brad,  in  this  way,  came, 
at  once,  into  the  zone  of  her  entire  maiden  confidences. 


350  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

But  when  Nance  Braddock,  John's  wife,  who  was  in 

T on  account  of  both  her  husband  and  brother,  was 

seen  by  De  near  the  little  country  tavern,  John  Brad- 
dock's  distracted  sister  welcomed  a  respite  from  a  final 
plunge  into  those  deep  waters  of  casuistry  and  subtle 
seeming  conventional  wrong  that  right  might  be.  Hastily 
excusing  herself,  therefore,  to  Brad,  she  hurried  after 
Nance,  grasping  at  the  unusual  personality  of  her  broth- 
er's wife  like  a  drowning  creature  at  a  straw.  Nance, 
too,  was  painfully  conscious  of  the  irregular  in  her  own 
relations  of  life,  owing  to  the  singularity  of  her  mar- 
riage v/ith  John  Braddock. 

"I  think  you  are  a  true  wife  and  a  good,  honest,  lov- 
ing mother,"  said  De  impulsively  to  Nance  Braddock, 
as  the  two  saddened  and  sorrowing  women  lingered  seek- 
ing mutual  sympathy  and  comfort;  "and  I  feel  the 
same  for  you,  dear,  as  I  would  for  a  sister  of  my  own." 

Misery  loves  company;  adversity  unites. 

The  words  of  De  had  been  called  forth  by  poor  hum- 
ble Nance's  deprecation  of  her  marriage  to  John,  out  of 
which  had  grown  the  incriminating  threat,  by  her  hus- 
band, against  the  life  of  Zeke  Smithin. 

"And  you  are  not  ashamed  of  me?"  rejoined  Nance, 
gazing  wistfully  into  De's  lovely  face. 

"Oh!  why  should  I  be?"  cried  the  other  from  the 
depth  of  her  own  great  trouble. 

"But,  dear  sister, — may  I  call  you  so?"  appealingly 
asked  the  wife  of  De's  brother. 

"You  may,  indeed." 

"Sister,  can  you  understand  the  scorn  of  women  for 
the  kind  who  have  been  unfortunate?  Can  you,"  said 
the  woman  with  timid  hesitancy  in  the  presence  of  the 
girl,  "know  the  burning  contempt  they  bestow  upon 
such  and  take  pleasure  in  the  pain  they  have  caused — 
the  joy  with  which  they  cast  your  sorrows,  misery  and 


A  SKEIN  OF  FATE'S  WEAVING.  351 

suffering  in  your  very  face?  Can  you — you  cannot — 
no,  you  cannot,"  cried  the  woman,  "know  the  heart 
that  breaks  under  the  loads  of  slights  and  sneers  and 
cruelty  that  human  beings  heap  on  those  who  are  found 
to  have  fallen  in  their  path!  ^lay  you  never  know — 
may  God  be  thanked  that  you  do  not!" 

De,  for  a  moment,  was  silent  under  the  merited  re- 
proach and  judgment  upon  humanity,  in  these  words 
from  her  sex.  And  the  woman  before  her  looked  not  to 
the  past  alone,  when,  unwedded,  this  exclusion  from 
human  sympathy  and  support,  in  the  great  struggle 
of  life,  existed  without  stint  or  check ;  but  no  change,  no 
alteration  of  state  wherein  the  voice  of  wifely  fidelity 
and  maternal  worth  was  heard  perfect  and  complete  ap- 
peared to  plead  for  the  once  erring,  extenuate  the  of- 
fense, conciliate  or  reconcile  the  virtuous  in  the  pitiful 
failings  of  our  fallen,  infirm  kind  made  to  stumble,  fall, 
rise  and  try  again. 

Let  them  without  ill,  reject  those  with  it ! 

While  Nance  Braddock  and  De  were  thus  engaged, 
Parson  Woods  came  up;  and  Peter  Braddock 's  daughter, 
without  delay  or  explanation,  announced  that  she  and 
Nance  were  starting  on  a  visit  to  Nance's  brother  Tom. 
Parson  Woods  cordially  expressed  a  desire  to  accompany 
the  two  women;  and  the  three,  at  once,  made  their  way 
around  to  the  jail,  at  no  great  distance  from  the  hotel. 

"Maybe,  here,"  thought  De,  "something  might  be 
learned  from  Tom  Bolers,  that  would  offer  a  way  to 
what  she  sought — her  brother's  release  from  unmerited 
suspicion." 

At  the  jail,  they  were  met  by  the  sheriff,  who  quickly 
showed  them  to  Tom's  cell. 

Tom  Bolers  stood  upon  one  side  of  the  grated  door 
shutting  him  in,  and  Nance  and  John's  sister  and  good 
and  worthy  Parson  Woods,  his  face  shining  with  benevo- 


352  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

lence  and  christian  charity,  stood,  in  the  narrow  hall- 
way, on  the  other  side, 

Tom  had  allowed  his  beard  to  grow,  and  a  coarse, 
profuse  and  unkempt  effect  of  whiskers,  together  with  a 
head  of  disheveled  hair  and  a  generally  neglected  per- 
son, gave  the  imprisoned  object  within  the  barred  cell 
the  aspect  of  some  strange  specimen  of  wild  animal  peer- 
ing out  upon  a  group  of  casual  visitors  and  sightseers. 
"Whether  the  cause  of  these  impressions  was  affected  by 
similar  fancies,  raging  inwardly  against  captivity,  or 
whether  the  helpless  captive  accepted  his  fate  like  a  sub- 
dued wild  beast,  and  callous  to  all  absence  of  power  to 
control  any  other  condition,  is,  perhaps,  outside  the 
province  of  this  narrative  to  say.  It  is  highly  probable 
that  we  are  kindly  and  wisel}^  adapted,  in  a  special,  sin- 
gular and  inscrutable  providence,  to  the  states  to  which 
we  are  called,  and  so  adapted  upon  the  beneficent  prin- 
ciple propounded  in  the  beautiful  thought  of  Lawrence 
Sterne : 

' '  The  Lord  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb ! ' ' 

"Tom,"  said  Nance  softly  and  gently,  as  the  brother, 
with  each  hand  above  his  head,  holding  a  bar,  placed  his 
face  between  his  elbows,  and  stood  looking  at  those  with- 
out, ' '  what  have  you  done  to  bring  this  new  trouble  upon 
us?" 

The  man,  in  silence,  gazed  stolidly,  one  might  almost 
have  said  uncomprehendingly,  upon  the  little  knot  of 
people  in  front  of  him. 

"Bolers,"  added  Parson  Woods,  "it  is  not  necessary, 
when  you  see  who  are  here,  to  say  that  we  come  as 
friends,  my  poor  fellow,  and,"  pursued  the  speaker,  "it 
is  with  the  deepest  wish  to  help,  serve  you  in  any  and 
all  ways,  that  your  friends  and  sister  are  here.  No  mat- 
ter, Thomas,"  continued  Woods  fervently,  the  rest  giv- 
ing way  in  profound  respect  to   the   remarks   of   the 


A  SKEIN  OP  FATE'S  WEAVING.  353 

preacher  who,  in  common  with  others,  had  concluded 
that  Tom  Avas  guilty, — "no  matter,"  repeated  Woods, 
"what  the  offense,  what  the  deed,  what  the  heart  of 
crime,  there  is  always  mercy  in  God ! ' ' 

The  prisoner  maintained  a  dogged  silence. 

"Tom,  can  you  tell  us  how  this  trouble  about  Zeke 
Smithin  happened?"  said  Parson  Woods  in  a  tone  of 
kind  insistence. 

Bolers'  look  of  stolid  immobility  took  on  a  slow  and 
labored  change.  He  glanced  from  one  to  the  other  of 
the  party  before  his  cell,  with  something  like  the  dawn 
of  an  intelligent  comprehension  growing  in  his  face.  His 
eyes  rested  longest,  as  was  natural,  upon  the  face  of  his 
sister,  Nance.  The  queer,  cunning  scrutiny  in  the  look 
of  the  man,  for  it  seemed  nothing  less  than  cunning, 
flitted  from  the  face  of  Nance  to  that  of  De.  As  the 
glance  of  the  man  behind  the  bars  rested  upon  the  coun- 
tenance of  the  sister  of  his  brother-in-law  John  Brad- 
dock,  a  slight  gleam,  one  might  almost  have  thought  of 
remorseful  recollection,  trembled  for  a  single  instant  in 
his  eye  and  was,  in  that  instant,  gone.  No  one  can  say 
how  deeply  the  memory  of  kindness,  done  him  by  John 
Braddock,  may  have  actuated  the  feelings  of  Tom,  at 
this  moment,  or  what  might  have  been  the  secretly  re- 
gretted realization  of  impending  disaster  to  John  and 
John's  own  which  some  past  act  of  Bolers'  was  likely  to 
precipitate.  None,  let  us  hope,  are  without  an  instinct 
dormant  or  otherwise  for  good. 

"Parson,"  said  the  man,  calmly,  "ye  know  I  ain't 
no  saint,  but  gamblin's  tlie  worst  in  this  case." 

"You  do  not  know,  then,"  queried  Woods,  "who 
assaulted — killed — Zeke  Smithin  ? ' ' 

"Nar}^  do  I,"  replied  the  prisoner  in  a  positive  man- 
ner and  with  an  air  of  perfect  truth. 

"But  the  marked  money,  Tom, — you  were  knowTi  to 


354  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

have  it;  the  money  that  the  faro  dealer  swears  was  that 
which,  on  the  occasion  of  the  play  and  large  winnings  of 
Zeke  Smithin,  the  faro  dealer  gave  to  Zeke;  how  do  you 
account  for  that  ? ' ' 

"Ye  don't  account  fur  the  birds,  nur  they  to  you 
fur  their  nests,"  answered  Tom  enigmatically. 

"Tom — Tom,"  said  the  parson  sadly,  turning  from 
the  grating,  "you  know  more  of  this  business,  than  you 
choose  to  tell,"  and  the  parson,  who  had  naturally  a  hu- 
mane heart  and  a  head  that,  had  it  discovered  any  benefi- 
cent and  unemployed  power  of  creed,  would  have  has- 
tened to  apply  it,  moved,  with  a  pained  gesture,  back  and 
to  one  side,  and  remained  talking,  in  low-voiced  sen- 
tences, with  the  sheriff. 

De  had  not  spoken  since  the  entrance  of  herself  and 
the  others  into  the  jail.  She  had  been  a  patient  and  at- 
tentive listener  to  all  that  had  passed.  It  was  not  ap- 
parent in  her  manner,  whether  she  considered  Tom  in- 
nocent or  guilty  of  the  crime  laid  at  his  and  John's 
door, —  doubtless,  it  was  sufficient  for  her  to  feel  thor- 
oughly satisfied  of  the  impossibility  of  her  brother's 
guilt  in  such  an  affair.  Nevertheless,  De's  thoughts  had 
not  been  idle.  She  stepped  to  the  bars  and  placed  a 
hand  in  tender  sympathy  upon  one  of  the  prisoner's 
roughened,  soil-begrimed  own. 

"Tom,"  said  the  genuine  and  great-hearted  girl,  her 
voice  thrilling  with  compassion,  "I  pity  you  from  the 
bottom  of  my  heart.  If  you  are  unjustly  charged,  all  I 
ask  is,  do  mend  your  ways  in  the  other  concerns  of  your 
life,  should  you  ever  be  at  liberty  again.  Do  not  think 
that  all  are  hard-hearted,  Tom,"  pursued  De,  "or  do 
not  wish  you  to  be  happy  and  free.  There  are  those  who 
still  love  you,  be  you  wliat  you  may,  and  wish  you  well. 
— But,  0  Tom, — Tom,  cannot  you  help  John?" 

For  a  minute,  the  man,  whose  silence  to  all  question- 


A  SKEIN  OF  FATE'S  WEAVING.  355 

ing,  beyond  his  assertion  that  he  had  won  the  incrimi- 
nating money  at  play,  might  be  seriously  compromising 
another,  and  that  other  this  woman 's  brother, —  for  a 
minute,  the  imprisoned  man  appeared  to  struggle  with 
an  effort  to  speak,  working  under  the  influence  of  the 
powerful  and  magnetic  kindness  of  De's  voice  and 
speech.  His  lips  parted.  That  Avas  all.  The  next  mo- 
ment, he  was  as  taciturn  as  ever.  After  a  time  spent  by 
the  brother  and  sister  in  such  communion  as  Nance, 
prompted  by  a  sincere  affection,  could  promote  between 
the  two,  John  Braddock's  wife  proposed  a  dissolution  of 
the  meeting.  They,  then,  departed,  as  wise  concerning 
the  Smithin  murder  as  they  had  come,  leaving  Tom 
Bolers,  with  his  hands  above  his  head,  still  holding  the 
bars  of  his  cell  door,  and  his  face  still  peering  out  at 
them  from  between  his  elbows. 

And  Brad  Simons,  again,  carne  to  John's  sister,  and, 
this  time,  in  utter  hopelessness  and  abandon,  she  poured 
forth  her  soul. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 


THE    KENTUCKY    MAN    TAKES    A    NEW    LEASE    ON    LIFE. 

Bob  Likkum,  on  a  day  set  apart  by  him  for  a  special 
trip  over  to  town,  stopped  his  democrat  and  roan  at 
the  rustic  dwelling  place  of  Ann  Mariah  Saunders,  and 
alighted  at  the  door  of  her  vine-covered  cottage. 

Ann  was  on  the  lookout,  arrayed  in  a  spotless  gown, 
and  came  forth,  this  morning,  to  greet  Bob  as  the  latter 
advanced  to  the  door.  Bob  was  going  to  drive  her  to 
town  by  previous  and  careful  mutual  arrangement. 

''Whoa!"  shouted  Likkum,  turning  sharply  to  the 
roan,  that  animal  making  evident  signs  of  distress  in  the 
rattling  shafts  of  the  democrat  and  the  stamping  of  roan 
feet;  "them  hossflies  is  pow'rful,"  commented  Ann's 
escort,  after  returning  from  the  slaughter  of  one  of  the 
aforesaid  insects  that  had  settled,  with  murderous  intent, 
upon  the  flank  of  the  suffering  roan;  "don't  know  what 
I'll  do." 

"Be  pretty  sassy,"  assented  the  dutiful  Ann  Mariah, 
looking  very  sweet  and  submissive. 

"Do  declare  they  be,"  repeated  Likkum, — "them 
there  pesky  little  varmints  is  more  bother 'n  taxes. 
Drive  weth  me  over  ter  town,  Ann  ? ' '  and  Bob,  as  though 
he  had  just  thought  of  it,  paused  without  entering  the 
house. 

"B'lieve  I  shall,"  said  the  coy  maiden,  as  if  for  the 
first  time  the  idea  had  presented  itself  to  her  own  mind. 

The  democrat  presently  rattled  off  with  Ann  and 
Bob,  the  roan  knowingly  cocking  liis  ears  when  he  neared 

356 


A  NEW  LEASE  ON  LIFE.  357 

a  double  row  of  thick  and  screening  hazel  bushes 
through  which  the  road  ran.  As  democrat  and  burden 
whisked  briskly  in  between  the  hiding  curtains  of  hazel 
shrubbery,  the  experienced  roan  very  slyly  closed  one 
eye  (was  the  action  caused  by  another  horsefly?)  and 
only  opened  the  same  upon  emerging  from  the  cozy  lane 
of  hazels,  at  the  other  end,  when  a  masculine  arm  with- 
drew from  Ann  Mariah's  waist  and  the  vehicle  arrived 
in  the  open  road  simultaneously. 

"Don't  look,"  remarked  Bob,  "much  's  if  go'n'  to 
hev'  rain,"  and  fell  silent  from  conversational  exhaus- 
tion. 

"No,"  said  Ann  and,  likewise,  collapsed. 

"Think  Job '11  do  it?"  asked  Bob  in  a  most  start- 
lingly  irrelevant  and  wholly  incomprehensible  sentence. 
In  view  of  Likkum's  comments  on  the  rain,  it  might 
have  been  thought  that  the  junior  Saunders  had,  since 
our  last  meeting  with  him  and  the  guitar  at  Widow 
Walmsey's,  been  transformed,  by  some  miraculous  pro- 
cess, into  the  character  of  rain  producer  for  that  region. 

Even  gentle  Ann  ]\Iariah  was,  for  the  moment, 
shocked  into  a  state  of  suspense,  involved  with  a  little 
creeping  shuddering  sensation  of  doubt,  lest  her  usually 
cool-headed  cavalier  had  suddenly  abandoned  his  senses 
to  the  surrounding  spaces  of  his  "native  heath."  She 
peered  anxiously  up  into  Bob  Likkum's  stolid  and  ex- 
pressionless face. 

"Do  what,  Robert?"  she  asked  in  mild  and  timid 
surprise. 

"The  -svddder,"  answered  Bob,  in  unconscious  double 
meaning,  his  reply  being  solely  of  that  laconic  and  brief 
nature,  which  merely  means  to  suggest,  \^-ithout  unnec- 
essary waste  of  time  or  verbiage,  by  the  use  of  one  lead- 
ing word  of  a  subject  a  natural  and  inevitable  trend  of 
subsequent  ideas. 


358  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"Oh!"  faintly  exclaimed  the  enlightened  lady  at 
Bob's  side.  She  had  perceived  her  companion's  mean- 
ing to  be,  "would  her  lazy  and  idle  brother  Job  secure 
the  matrimonial  prize  offered  in  the  equally  unprovided 
for  Widow  Walmsey?" 

"I  hope  not,"  further,  and  in  tones  almost  as  inaudi- 
ble as  before,  breathed  Ann. 

Robert  had  felt,  in  his  previous  observation,  some- 
thing akin  to  an  absurd  impulse  of  sympathy  for  Job, 
and  experienced  the  corresponding  douche  of  ice-water 
effect  convej^ed  in  poor  Ann's  feeble  response. 

' '  Ye  hain  't  got  much  f eelin '  f er  lovers ! ' '  rebuked 
Bob,  in  about  tlie  most  lugubrious  attempt  at  sportive 
raillery  ever  heard. 

"Oh,  Robert,"  sighed  the  martyr  in  the  democrat, 
"I  have  to  support — the  little  place,"  apologetically 
amended  Ann,  "has  to  support  Job  and  me,"  her  un- 
finished intended  remark  was  the  correct  one, — she  had 
to  support  herself  and  Job,  as  her  brother  never,  under 
any  possible  pretext,  was  known  to  put  upon  himself  the 
dishonor  of  work, — "I  have  to  support  us  both,"  said 
Ann  ]\Iariah  breaking  down  completely,  in  both  her  in- 
nocent, original  subterfuge  to  shield  the  worthless  Job, 
and  in  her  emotions,  as  well ;  ' '  what,  oh !  Bob,  what 
would  become  of  us,  if — " 

"Shan't  be,"  said  Likkum,  making  unavailing  ef- 
forts to  stem  the  flood  of  his  own  emotions,  angry,  sor- 
rowful and  otherwise, — "shan't  be,  I  tell  ye, — Job 
shan't, — selfish,  orn'ry  feller — won't  allow  it,  nohow,  I 
won't,"  which  meant  that  Bob,  upon  realizing  the  pos- 
sible miseries  likely  to  result  from  "selfish,  orn'ry"  Job 
Saunders  bringing  the  additional  responsibility  of 
Widow  Walmsey  upon  the  already  sufificiently  strained 
Saunders'  resources,  had  entered  a  wholesome  protest 


A  NEW  LEASE  ON  LIFE.  359 

against  Job  making  the  spectacle  of  himself  pictured  in 
Ann  Mariah's  uncontrollable  and  spontaneous  plaint. 

And  yet,  until  Ann  could  provide  another  nurse  for 
the  infant  (?)  "Jobie,"  how  could  she  be  expected  to 
forsake  the  anchor  of  her  duty  to  her  flesh  and  blood,  as 
"orn'ry"  as,  in  the  depths  of  truth,  that  flesh  and  blood 
was,  and  "cleave  unto"  Robert  Likkum?  That  was 
what  rubbed  Bob  the  wrong  way,  unless — ? 

"Heaven,"  thought  Bob,  "forbid!  marry  and  en- 
joy Joberius's  society  in  perpetooity?  Flee,  boys,  flee, 
flee  fur  your  lives,"  finished  Robert  silently,  in  a  burst 
of  inspiration  of  a  decidedly  expressive,  original  and 
brilliant  nature. 

"Robert,"  fluttered  the  bird  that  felt  the  nestful 
promptings  at  the  side  of  her  mate,  "father  might  come 
home,  and  rich,"  and  Ann  Mariah,  after  this  final  and 
exhaustive  demand  upon  her  hopeful  and  imaginative 
powers,  sank  into  a  silence  too  dense  and  profound  to 
be  even  affected  by  Likkum 's, 

' '  Oh !  Lord, ' '  groaned  in  the  depths  of  despair  over 
the  old,  familiar  reference  to  the  derelict  senior  Saund- 
ers, and,  by  his  offspring,  his  confidently  expected  re- 
turn in  wealth  to  his  needy  kinsfolk. 

The  balance  of  the  ride  to  the  town  of  T was 

consumed  by  the  joltings  of  the  democrat,  sundry  ef- 
forts, on  Bob's  part,  to  "git,"  as  he  put  it  to  himself, 
"a  bearin'  on  the  subjeck,"  and,  finally,  by  a  harmo- 
nious readjustment  of  the  mutual  feelings  of  Ann  and 
Bob,  much  to  the  apparent  approval  and  satisfaction  of 
the  roan,  who  testified  his  appreciation  of  the  clearer 
state  of  the  sentimental  atmosphere  by  a  loud  and  gal- 
lant neigh,  while  passing  a  pert  and  wonderingly  star- 
ing mare  in  an  adjoining  field. 

And  Bob  took  up  the  rest  of  Ann  ]\Iariah's  time  and 
pleasure  with   the   Likkum  version,   so   famous   in   the 


360  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

Wabash  country,  of  the  story  of  "Aladdin  and  the  Won- 
derful Lamp,"  and,  as  will  be  clearly  perceived,  intro- 
duced by  Ann's  devoted  swain  with  telling  force  and 
effect  relating  to  politics,  and  of  much  interest  in  exist- 
ing political  fitness. 

"Onc't,"  said  Bob,  "upon  a  time,  in  them  days  uv 
long  ago,  they  existed  a  majishun  what,  it  is  thinked, 
wuz  like  one  uv  our  modern  rich  Creesuses,"  (the  en- 
tertainer, it  may  be  said,  in  the  briefest  possible  inter- 
ruption of  Likkum's  undeniable  attractions  as  a  story 
teller,  lived  before  the  latter  day  Trust  magnate  sum- 
moned the  genii  of  fabled  wealth  to  do  his  bidding;  but 
there  were  rich  men  in  Bob's  time,  too,)  "and,"  contin- 
ued Robert,  "this  here  majishun  wuz  mos'  discontented 
with  his  poor,  small  means,  and  aspired  to  be  a  gentle- 
man of,  at  least,  enough  to  keep  ther  wolf  frum  ther 
door,  ez  he  had  on'y  erbout  a  few  milliuns.  Well,  this 
majishun,  he  w^ent  to  a  young  man  some'er's  in  Chiny 
an'  he  sez,  'I'd  like,'  he  sez,  'ef  yer'll  do  me  the  lastin' 
favor,'  he  sez,  'to  b'lieve  I'm  yer  kind,  tender  hearted, 
long  lost  uncle,'  he  sez,  'an'  go  an'  git  me  that  'air 
lamp.'  An'  the  young  man,  w'at  didn't  hev'  no  other 
biz  'ness  in  life  but  fur  ter  b  'lieve  anythin '  what  ^^^^z  said 
to  him  by  any  man  wantin'  to  increase  his  few  paltery 
little  milliuns,  he  sez  to  the  wicked  majishun,  he  sez: 
'  All  right,  ole  cock, '  he  sez,  sez  the  young  man ;  an '  the 
purtended  uncle,  fur  to  reconcile  his  unfort'nate  doop 
(dupe)  to  his  a-proachin'  fate,  bought  him  a  suit  uv 
clothes,  fur  the  young  man  wtiz  needin'  'em;  an'  ther 
wicked  and  wily  majishun,  mos'  gen'rous  and  flatterin', 
informed  the  overpowered  and  pleas-ed  young  feller,  that 
the  same  young  feller  wuz  cert'nly  one  of  the  most  intel'- 
junt  and  enlightened  voters  in  the  country;  and  the 
young  feller  said,  after  that,  'at  he'd  git  his  gen 'r 'us  rel- 
ative the  lamp,  er  help  send  him  ter  congress,  er  anything 


A  NEW  LEASE  ON  LIFE.  361 

else,  an'  he  got  his  uncle  ther  lamp;  an'  the  young  man 
got  it  in  the  neck,  and  couldn't  git  out  uv  the  cave,  his 
uncle  put  him  in,  'cause  uv  the  job  the  wicked  majishun 
had  set  up  on  him.  So  the  young  man  got  what  the  fel- 
ler shot  at;  and  the  majishun,  he  overreached  hisself, 
like  the  politishun,  an'  he  got  nuthin',  nuther;  'cause  the 
young  man  was  shet  up  in  the  cave  weth  the  lamp,  an' 
couldn't  get  out,  nary.  And  ther  purtended  uncle, 
ther  wicked  majishun,  he'd  lost  ther  combination;  and, 
arter  hollerin'  aroun'  on  ther  outside  uv  the  cave  fur  a 
while,  he  quit  an'  went  away."  Robert  Likkum  looked 
to  see  if  his  listener  in  the  democrat  had  survived  thus 
far,  and  found  much  to  his  satisfaction,  that  Ann's  eyes 
were  sparkling  with  interest  and  childlike  pleasure.  Con- 
siderably refreshed  and  encouraged.  Bob  proceeded. 
''So,  the  wicked  majishun,"  in  high  feather  pursued  the 
narrator,  ' '  went  away  mean ;  and  the  young  man  was 
left  to  hold  the  sack ;  and  the  young  feller,  at  the  end  of 
a  inkredible  time  alive  wethout  eatin',  rubs  a  ring  the 
majishun  'd  let  him  into, — or,  at  least,  like  the  politi- 
shun, one  little  finger, — and  it  shows  the  young  man 
how  deep  they've  got  'im  in  the  hole — whole  ring," 
added  Likkum  unable  to  resist  the  temptation ;  "  an '  the 
giunt  jeeny  w'at  comes  at  the  beehest  uv  the  ring  tells 
the  young  man  he  got  ter  get  inter  another  ring,  or  no, ' ' 
said  Bob,  correcting  himself  adroitly,  "not  another  ring, 
tho'  the  same  thing, — the  young  man's  referred  up  to 
the  nex'  boss  fur  favors.  An'  the  young  man,  he  rubs 
the  lamp,  and,  this  time,  the  head  jeeny  uv  all  rings, 
he  comes  a-bowin',  and  a-salaamin',  an'  a-scrapin',  an' 
a-boviatin'  aroun',  and  he  sez,  sez  he,  'Wat  would  yer 
be  pleased  fur  to  want?'  and  the  wuntime  doop  of  the 
politishun — no,  I  mean  the  wicked  majishun — the  wun- 
time doop,  he  sez,  sez  he,  'Have  I  the  honor  uv  a-gittin' 
a-hold,'  sez  he,  'uv  the  power  behin'  the  throne,'  sez  he, 


362  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

*w'at  my  frien',  the  wicked  majishun,  he  wanted  fur  ter 
make  me  the  innercent  an '  onconshus  tool  fur  ter  git  fur 
himself?'  sez  the  young  .man;  an'  ther  jeeny,  he  sez, 
'Beggin'  yer  pardin,'  he  sez,  'yer  hev'!'  "  Again  the 
story  teller  inspected  his  limited  audience. 

''Did  the  young  man  get  out  of  the  cave,  Robert?" 
asked  Ann  Mariah,  with  eager  interest,  and  a  delighted 
and  simple  look  upon  her  sweet  face. 

"That  'air,  Ann,"  said  Bob,  striking  a  particularly 
large  horsefly  off  the  roan's  back  wdth  a  skilful  flick  of 
his  whip,  "is  w'at  I  am  arter  a-gettin'  at.  So,  ag'in,  I 
may  say,  in  the  langwidge  of  the  historiun,"  continued 
Likkum,  and  Ann  Mariah  gave  a  long,  low  sigh  of  happy 
content,  "the  young  man,  he  picked  bar 'Is  uv  purls  frum 
trees,  and  likewise  dimun's,  and  jools,"  Likkum  hesi- 
tated not,  in  his  critical  approach  to  a  climax,  to  explain 
any  lack  of  special  difference  between  "purls  and  di- 
mun's" and  "jools,"  but  hastened  on;  "and  he  got  out 
of  the  cave,"  this  incidental,  rather  blunt  and,  as  it 
were,  auxiliary  climax  was  considerately  reached  for 
the  relief  of  Ann's  feelings  engrossed  with  the  possible 
liberation  of  the  magician's  imprisoned  victim.  "And," 
went  on  Bob,  hopelessly  mixing  up  the  magician  and  the 
politician,  "the  politician,  he  found  a  castle  the  doop, 
he  built,  weth  the  a-'sistance  uv  ther  magic  lamp,  an' 
the  politician,  he  tuk  that;  and  the  politician,  he  found 
a  red  hot  stove,  w'at  the  doop  hed  heated  fur  to  cook 
his  dinner,  and  he  tuk  that,  and  he  found  a  wife  the 
doop  hed  got,  an'  he  tried  to  take  that,"  and  Ann's 
lover  was,  for  the  last  time,  interrupted  by  Ann 's  breath- 
less inquiry, 

"Robert,  did  he  take  that?" 

"No,"  said  Bob,  after  a  moment's  deliberation,  "he 
drawed  the  line  there, — not  but  w'at  the  wife'd  a-gone, 


A  NEW  LEASE  ON  LIFE.  363 

too,"  said  Bob  ruminatively,  ''ef  that  'air  politishim'd 
a-hed  his  way. ' ' 

' '  And, ' '  said  Ann  Mariah  after  the  narrator  had  evi- 
denced, by  an  unusually  prolonged  silence,  that  the  final 
climax  of  the  thrilling  story  might  have  transpired,  "is 
that  all?" 

"That,"  said  Bob,  much,  in  the  way  of  silence,  ar- 
gument, accustomed  and  well  informed  viewing  of  farm 
landscape,  having  fallen  out  since  leaving  Ann's  abode, 
— "that,"  repeated  Likkum,  catching  a  glimpse  of  the 
first   appearance,   in   the   distant  vista,   of   the   church 

spire,  at  the  town  of  T ,  "be,  ez  near,"  said  he 

carefully,  "ez  I  kin  reck'lect,  a-bout  all, —  although," 
reflectively,  after  a  pause,  "I  b'lieve  they  finully 
tlirowed  that   'ere  politishun  inter  ther  river." 

After  a  brief  and  eloquent  silence,  in  which  Ann  and 
Robert  lapsed  into  the  depths  of  wordless  and  express- 
ive "sparkin',"  Bob  Likkum  spoke  up. 

"An'  thet  'air  reminds  me,"  said  William  White's 
political  friend  and  backer,  "thet  'air  politishun:  he'd 
orter  to  be  throwed  inter  ther  river;  an'  so'd  orter  Jason 
Jump  an'  Ben  Grigscomb.  I  must  git  'em,  our  party, 
a-organized  fur  Billy  White's  nomination  fur  con- 
gress. ' ' 

Bob  drove  down  the  main  street  of  T in  a 

satisfied  frame  of  mind,  for  Ann  and  he  had  succeeded 
in  spending,  upon  their  drive  of  five  miles,  a  most  pleas- 
ant and  agreeable  time  of  wisdom,  jest  and  other  —  es- 
pecially the  other  —  social  intercourse. 

As  Likkum 's  roan  drew  the  democrat  up  to  the  door 
of  the  Traver's  Hotel,  Uncle  Peter  Braddock,  Benjamin 
Grigscomb  and  Bradford  Simons,  together  with  Williana 
White,  were  seen  standing  beneath  the  trees  in  front  of 
the  town  tavern. 

Uncle  Peter  was  animated  and  talkative;  Grigscomb 


364  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

was  listening  with  deep  apparent  attention,  and  White 
and  Simons,  seemingly  oblivious  of  all  but  entirely 
friendly  relations,  were  quietly  interchanging  words  of 
speech  upon  the  subject  of  John's  approaching  trial. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  William  White  was  ever  thor- 
oughly satisfied  as  to  Brad  Simons'  part  in  that  night 
attack.  Smoky  Billings,  however,  following  a  hint  con- 
veyed by  Bob  Likkum's  recognition  of  the  perfidious  and 
murderous  messenger  Bill,  as  one  of  Brad  Simons'  drov- 
ers, permitted  himself,  in  subsequent  speculations  upon 
the  responsibility  for  the  assault,  to  dwell,  at  consider- 
able length,  upon  the  possible  share  Brad  might  be  sup- 
posed to  have  taken  in  White's  waylaying. 

Still,  v/ith  the  disappearance  of  Bill  from  the  country, 
and  the  care  with  which  Simons  had  covered  up  his  own 
tracks,  the  inspiration  of  the  attack  was  never  positively 
fixed.  One  good,  however,  resulting  from  Smoky's  sus- 
picions, was  to  increase  if  possible  the  vigilance  of 
White's  employe;  so  that  Simons,  at  this  time,  scarcely 
moved  or  breathed  without  Billings,  in  some  way,  keep- 
ing himself  informed  of  those  actions,  on  the  part  of  the 
cattle  raiser. 

As  Bob  Likkum  drove  up,  Simons  was  saying  to 
White,  with  a  secret  and  malicious  satisfaction  it  was 
difficult  to  conceal: 

"You  remember.  White,  that  witness  to  John's 
alibi — the  one  I  spoke  to  Grigseomb  about,  that  day,— 
ahem! — that  day,  you  and  I  had  our  little  misunder- 
standing ? ' ' 

White  said  he  remembered  perfectly  well. 

"I've  got  the  witness  sure  as  you're  born,"  said 
Brad,  with  the  sly  insinuation  of  one  otherwise  con- 
sidering something  which  he  felt  certain  would  not  be 
pleasant  to  his  companion. 

William  White  was  either  unconscious  of  the  other's 


A  NEW  LEASE  ON  LIFE.  365 

manner,  or  determined  to  give  no  occasion  for  a  renewal 
of  hostilities  between  Simons  and  himself,  for  he  an- 
swered that  he  was  heartily  glad  to  hear  Simons  say 
so.  He  showed  the  liveliest  interest  in  Brad's  informa- 
tion, and  turned  to  the  cattleman  with  evidence  of  relief 
and  satisfaction  in  his  face  and  in  his  voice. 

"You  must  know,  Brad,"  exclaimed  the  literary 
man,  "that  this  that  you  have  told  us  is  all  we  have 
been  waiting  for.  If  what  you  say  is  true,  and,  of 
course,  I  do  not  doubt  it,  you  have  rescued  John  from  a 
most  unpleasant  if  not  a  most  dangerous  situation. 
Who  is  the  witness?"  asked  White  naturally  enough. 

But  this,  Simons  declined  to  say,  asserting  liis  inten- 
tion of  privately  communicating  such  knowledge 
alone  to  La-wyer  Grigscomb.  The  wdly  and  unscrupu- 
lous cattleman  was  bent,  if  possible,  upon  retaining  ex- 
clusive control  of  the  various  stages  of  proceedings 
which  involved  the  final  mastery  not  only  of  John  Brad- 
dock's  case  but  that  of  De  Braddock,  his  sister,  as  well. 
Brad,  as  "vnll  soon  be  seen,  already  occupied,  in  the  mind 
of  the  trusting  and  confiding  country  girl,  the  place 
of  inspirer  of  the  means  of  saving  and  savior  of  her 
imperiled  brother,  and  Brad  Simons  did  not  intend,  by 
any  false  or  ill  advised  step,  to  allow  himself  to  risk  the 
loss  of  the  continued  occupancy  of  that  place  of  vantage. 

"What's  that!"  exclaimed  Benjamin  Grigscomb, 
turning  quickly  to  Brad;  "have  you  found  that  witness 
you  were  telling  me  about  ? " 

Brad  said  he  had. 

"You  should  have  reported  to  me,  at  once,"  said 
the  laveyer  somewhat  impatiently. 

Simons  mumbled  some  excuse  or  other. 

"See,  here,"  said  Uncle  Peter  to  Simons,  "Bradford, 
why  ain't  ye  speak  to  me,  'bout  sich  a  important 
thing?" 


366  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"Just  waiting  my  chance,  while  you  discussed  Hi- 
ram's illness  with  Grigscomb,"  responded  Brad  cheerily. 

"Wliat  do  you  think,"  asked  Uncle  Peter  address- 
ing himself  to  Benjamin  Grigscomb, — "I  say,  Grigs- 
comb,"  and  Uncle  Peter's  voice  took  on  a  shade  of 
anxiety,  ''what  do  ye  think  uv  it?" 

"What — of  j\Ir.  Simons'  communications?"  replied 
the  attorney, — ' '  of  the  very  greatest  importance. ' ' 

"Be  they?"  said  Uncle  Peter  wistfully. 

"How's  Hiram,  Peter?"  called  Bob  from  his  seat  in 
the  democrat,  with  Ann  still  by  his  side,  and  arriving 
at  this  moment. 

"Got  a  fightin'  chanst.  Bob,"  said  old  Braddock 
thankfully  and  happily. 

The  Kentucky  man  had  unexpectedly  surprised 
those  about  him,  taken  a  turn  for  the  better  and  was 
still  alive. 

"Glad  to  hear  it,"  rejoined  the  sincere  inquirer 
cordially;  and  Bob  Likkum  and  Ann  Mariah  passed  on. 

"Gentlemen — gentlemen,  the  hangin'  's  over;  go 
home — go  home — go  home,"  chanted  a  voice,  its  un- 
canny owner  coming  swiftly  from  behind  the  corner  of 
the  inn,  "go  home — go  home — go  home, —  'thout,"  la- 
mented the  speaker,  "ye  hain't  no  home.  Did  some- 
un',"  asked  the  flighty  newcomer  stopping  in  front  of 
Uncle  Peter,  "break  up  your  home?  Mine  broke — my 
heart  broke — long  ago !  You — all  of  you, ' '  cried  Rachel 
Bolers  wildly,  "go  home,  if  you  have  homes.  Do  you," 
continued  the  poor  creature,  moving  to  Simons  with  an 
appearance  of  disordered  recollection  of  Brad,  "mend 
hearts,  or  break  them?" 

"There,  there,  my  poor  creature, — there,"  enjoined 
Simons,  with  a  pretense  of  soothing  in  his  tones,  "go 
along — go  along." 

"They  didn't  hang  the  right  man,  did  they?"  que- 


A  NEW  LEASE  ON  LIFE.  367 

ried  the  distracted  female,  coming  closer  to  Simons,  and 
peering  more  intently  into  the  face  of  the  observant  man. 
"Did  they — did  they  hang  the  right  man?"  she  repeated 
with  almost  sane  insistence.  "Ha!  ha!  ha!"  laughed 
the  questioner;  "we  know — we  know  what's  at  the  root 
of  all  troubles  an'  trials  and  trib'lations,  don't  we?" 
and  the  mowing  figure  stood  and  nodded  mysteriously 
at  Brad  Simons,  and  gibbered  in  his  face.  "The  sight 
that  sees  sometimes  don't  tell,  the  heart  that  feels  rings 
its  own  knell!"  intoned  the  crazy  being  weirdly.  "Say," 
cried  the  woman,  in  a  further  burst  of  disordered  pas- 
sion, "I  saw  a  bird  thet  carried  home  a  seed  to  its  nest, 
and  the  worm  turned  and  stung  it. ' ' 

"Do  move  on,  Rachel,"  urged  Brad,  who  showed, 
during  this  scene,  a  return  to  the  nervousness  which  the 
cattle  raiser  had  manifested  on  the  occasion  of  the  visita- 
tion of  the  woman  in  Farmer  Braddock's  yard,  on  the 
day  of  the  eclipse;  "we  are  busy,"  said  he,  fretfully; 
"now,  move  on!" 

"Yes,  yes,"  retorted  the  woman;  "too  busy  for 
justice.  I  know,  I  know.  They  say  I'm  mad, — well, 
well,  well ;  and,  some  day  I  '11  not  be  mad,  and  then 
they'll — but  I'll  go  and  find  who  did  it,  and  when  I 
do,"  the  woman  looked  about  her  vacantly,  and  sud- 
denly seemed  to  realize  the  import  of  her  first  remarks, 
which  had  led  her  to  pause,  in  the  beginning,  and  ad- 
dress these  assembled  figures — 

"Gentlemen,"  cried  the  woman  wildly,  "the  hangin' 
's  over, — go  home — go  home — go  home,"  and  flitting 
away  from  the  group  at  the  tavern,  and  on  up  the  street 
until  out  of  sight,  a  wail,  "go-o-o  ho-o-ome,"  at  last 
came  faintly  borne,  in  the  distance,  to  their  ears. 

"That  person,"  said  Brad  Simons,  breaking  the 
silence,  "gives  me  the  shivers." 

"Now,    gentlemen,"    observed    Lawyer    Grigscomb, 


368  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

pleasantly,  and  with  the  aplomb  of  a  studied  politician, 
"I  shall  not  direct  you,  in  the  dramatic  and  eerie  fash- 
ion of  our  late  visitor,  to  'go  home,'  but  you  -will  all  ad- 
journ with  me  to  my  office,  and  talk  over  this  new  evi- 
dence of  Mr.  Simons  which,  I  dare  say,  will  afford  us 
even  greater  scope,  in  detail. ' ' 

While  the  party  moved  over  the  way  to  Grigscomb's 
retired  and  unobtrusive  law  office,  Bob  Likkum  came 
out  of  the  tavern  where,  with  the  matronly  wife  of  the 
keeper  of  the  hotel,  he  had  just  seen  Ann  ]\Iariah,  for  the 
time  being,  comfortably  installed. 

For  a  moment.  Bob  hesitated;  and  then,  walking 
briskly,  overtook  Uncle  Peter. 

Likkum  drew  Peter  Braddock  aside. 

"Uncle  Peter,"  remarked  Bob  Likkum,  "you  an' 
John  both  is  hev'in'  all  yer  kin  do  tub  meet  expenses, 
reckon  ? ' ' 

"Givin'  us  a  right  smart  rassle.  Bob,"  said  the  old 
man,  with  something  like  a  quiver  in  his  voice. 

"Peter,"  said  the  true  hearted  countryman,  "ye 
know  I  've  got  a  leetle  laid  up  fur  a  rainy  day — ' ' 

"Robert,  no, — I  couldn't  think  uv  a-layin'  this  here 
onto  you, — ^no,  an',  besides,"  said  Uncle  Peter,  "maybe 
we,  John  an'  me,  kin  pull  thro'." 

"Ye  know  where  ter  find  me,"  said  Bob,  to  which 
the  stout-hearted  old  Indiana  farmer  nodded  his  head, 
in  token  of  a  grateful  appreciation,  and  quickly  and 
eagerly  followed  John's  lawyer  and  the  others  into 
Benjamin  Grigscomb's  place  of  business. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 


DE  HAS  FRIENDS  AT  WORK. 


Smoky  Billings  was  looking  after  White's  horse,  in 
Mrs.  Walmsey's  stable.  His  seaman's  high  and  bowling 
spirits  had  reached  a  climax  expressed  in  the  vocal 
rendering  of  a  lively  and  animated  song  setting  forth 
the  virtues  of  a  sailor's  vdte,  who  watched  in  storm  and 
fair  weather  for  the  coming  of  "Jack  at  sea."  Smoky 
was  at  the  height  of  his  melodious  achievement,  when 
Mrs.  Walmsey's  voice,  accompanied  by  a  sight  of  the 
widow's  plump  figure  at  the  door  of  her  house,  broke 
in  upon  his  musical  accomplishment  Anth, 

"Mr.  Saunders  is  at  the  gate — ^maybe,  you  could  help 
him  'light." 

Job  Saunders  had  ridden  over  that  morning  to  put 
his  fate  with  the  widow  to  the  test.  He  had  been 
obliged  to  don,  in  lieu  of  better,  the  big,  white,  bell 
crown  beaver ;  and  he  sat  his  horse,  in  presence  of  Smoky 
and  the  lady  of  the  house,  with  a  solemn  and  judicial 
air.  He  was  cordially  invited  by  Billings  and  the  widow, 
the  last  of  whom  had  come  for  that  purpose  to  the  front 
door,  to  dismount  and  enter  the  hospitable  portals  stand- 
ing wide  for  his  reception. 

Just  then,  William  White,  in  his  rooms  on  the  second 
floor  of  Mrs.  Walmsey's  dwelling,  put  his  head  out  of 
the  window,  and  seized  the  opportunity  to  gather  news 
from  down  the  road  and  in  the  vicinity  of  town,  from 
which  general  locality  Job,  Wliite's  intended  source  of 
information,  had  but  recently  ridden. 

369 


370  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"Job,"  called  White,  "any  news?" 

"Billy,"  said  the  widow's  swain  with  due  gravity, 
"that  'ere  relation  uv  Peter  Braddock's  be  still  a-holdin' 
his  owTi." 

"That's  good,"  rejoined  White.  "How's  John 
Braddock?" 

"Hear  he  be  p'utty  fair,  but  Tom  Bolers  's  a-gittin' 
sick,"  said  Saunders. 

"Good  and  bad.    Won't  you  come  in?"  asked  White. 

And,  thereupon,  with  Mrs.  Walmsey  still  prominent 
in  his  fancy,  it  transpired  in  the  confession  of  Job, 
"that  he  didn't  keer  ef  he  did." 

"By  Jacks!"  said  Bob  Likkum,  a  short  time  after 
Ann's  brother  had  dismounted,  "it  be  a-goin'  ter  rain 
cats,  dogs  and  pitchforks,"  and  the  Likkum  roan  and 
democrat  drew  up  at  the  Widow  Walmsey 's  door,  seem- 
ingly, as  fate  would  have  it,  at  a  seasonable  though  un- 
expected time  to  put  into  execution  Bob's  protest  to 
Job's  and  "the  widder's"  contemplated  folly. 

Robert  Likkum  was  no  marplot,  and  it  did  not  rest 
in  his  previous  knowledge  that  Job  was  taking  this  day 
to  force  conclusions  with  the  widow;  but  Bob  had 
political  business  with  White,  and  entered  the  widow's 
parlor  unannounced.  It  must  be  remembered  that  Bob 
Likkum  was  a  longtime  friend  and  confidential  associate 
of  the  Saunders  family  and,  as  has  before  been  seen, 
fearless  if  of  a  nature  intrusive  in  the  adjustment  of 
other  people's  affairs,  where  those  affairs  affected  the 
personal  feelings  of  the  Likkum  heart  or  better  nature. 
He  proceeded,  at  first  in  silence,  to  view  with  grave  dis- 
approval the  sight  of  Job,  with  his  arm  unmistakably 
around  the  widow's  enticing  and  seductive  waist. 

"Is  Mr.  White  to  hum'?"  asked  Likkum  in  formal 
and  austere  tones. 

Bob  had  a  pathetic  picture  very  clearly  outlined  in 


DE  HAS  FRIENDS  AT  WORK.  371 

his  imagination  of  a  sweet,  brave,  patient  woman  look- 
ing up  at  him,  and,  with  tears  filling  her  true  eyes, 
saying,  "Oh!  Robert,  I  have  to  support  us  both,"  and 
Bob,  really,  was  in  a  pitiable  state  of  doubt  and  uncer- 
tainty as  to  what  to  do. 

As  Likkum  entered  the  ^vidow's  parlor,  the  arm  of 
Joe  Saunders, — whose  overgrown,  white,  bell  crown 
beaver,  from  a  neighboring  table,  viewed  with  severe 
and  formal  looks  the  events  transpiring  before  it, —  slow- 
ly and  clandestinely  withdrew  from  the  widow's  form. 
Job  in  an  earnest  and  sincere  effort  to  recover  his  com- 
posure, much  heated  by  extended  amatory  proceedings 
antedating  Bob's  arrival,  cleared  his  throat;  while  the 
widow  and  the  bell  crown  hat  vied  -with  each  other  in 
the  assumption  of  looks  of  serious  and  weighty  concern. 

"Is  Mr.  White  to  hum'?"  once  more  propounded 
Robert. 

"I  think,  Robert,"  said  Mrs.  Walmsey,  after  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation,  "that  you  ^\ill  find  William  in  his 
room. ' ' 

With  a  keen  while  sorrowful  gaze,  Likkum  eyed  the 
two  lost  beings  sitting  on  the  sofa,  and  ascended  to 
White's  apartments. 

Robert  Likkum,  William  White's  acknowledged  con- 
gressional manager,  was  in  trouble.  The  convention, 
which  was  expected  to  nominate  their  party  candidate 
for  the  congressional  race,  would  soon  convene.  Likkum 
had  encountered  a  determined  and  unlooked  for  obstacle 
to  White 's  success,  and  had  hastened  to  White  to  consult 
him. 

"Billy,"  said  Bob  as,  in  the  latter 's  room,  he  came 
upon  White  seated  comfortably  behind  a  cob  pipe, 
"Brad  Simons  hez  that  young  feller,  Claw-Hammer, — 
that  ain't  his  right  name,  but  you  know  who  I  mean — • 
wears  that  darn  swaller  tailed  coat,  ye  know,  evenin' 


372  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

meetin's,  all  the  time— that 's  the  feller,— well,  Brad's 
got  him  in  trainin'  fer  to  beat  ye  fer  yer  own  party's 
nomynation.  Did  ye  ever  hear  the  like — huh?"  Bob 
Likkiim's  manner  showed  signs  of  a  divided  interest — 
his  attention  was  certainly  shared  with  William  White, 
in  a  high  degree ;  but  his  wandering  thoughts  were,  like- 
wise, down  stairs,  visiting  with  Job  Saunders  and  the 
widow. 

''Wliy,  Likkum,"  in  surprise,  ejaculated  the  candi- 
date, recognizing  Bob's  graphic  and  satisfactory  de- 
scription of  a  possible  contestant  for  the  choice  of  the 
convention,  and  removing  the  pipe  from  his  mouth, 
"that  man  is  one  of  our  owti  party.  How  can  Brad 
Simons  do  anything  with  him,  I'd  like  to  know!  Wliat 
do  you  mean,  anyway  ? ' ' 

"Well,  ye  see,  Claw-Hammer,"  and  Bob  thought 
this  name  good  enough  to  stand, — "he's  'lowed  that 
there  cuss-ed  crittur  Simons  to  horn-swoggle  'im,  some 
way,  into  goin'  in  ag'in'  you,  an'  I  thought  ye  mout 
keer  ter  know  about  it,  that's  all." 
"You're  sure?" 
"Sart'in." 

' '  ]\Iuch  obliged,  of  course,  you  know,  for  the  informa- 
tion, but — " 

"I  don't  know,  now,  Billy;  need'nt  make  any  mis- 
take. Might  giv'  trouble, — Brad  might;  ye  can't  tell, 
nohow.  He's  slick,  an'  he's  got  lots  o'  money,  an  ain't 
a-go'n'  to  spare  none  uv  it,  so  I  hears  he  says,  in  a-de- 
featin'  of  you,  at  all  p'ints.  Better  let  me  look  into  this 
'ere  matter  fer  you,  soon  's  I  kin  git  uh  good  chanst. ' ' 

' '  Of  course,  of  course,  Likkum, — you  must  do  as  you 
think  best,"  returned  William  White,  readily,  and,  at 
once,  yielding  in  what  might  have,  othermse,  proved  a 
grave  and  most  serious  political  difference. 


DE  HAS  FRIENDS  AT  WORK.  373 

"See  Job  's  dowii  steers,"  observed  Bob  Likkum, 
casually  and  impersonally. 

''Yes?"  was  "White's  commonplace  reply. 

"Got  a  little  business  with  him,"  explained  the  other, 
thoughtfully  stroking  his  chin,  and  with  a  peculiar  glint 
in  the  eye.    "Excuse  me,  will  you,  please?" 

"Certainly,  Bob,"  replied  the  literary  man. 

"I'll  'tend  to  Brad  Simons,"  Bob  Likkum  called 
bacfc,  as  he  started  away  bent  on  early  judgment  to  Job 
Saunders  and  Vfidow  Walmsey,  in  their  unconscious  and 
happy  love  making. 

"So  do,  Likkum,"  answered  "White  agreeably  and 
seriously. 

Ann  Mariah's  hurrying  sweetheart  was  coming  down 
the  stairs  when  the  following  words,  unmistakably 
adapted,  by  Job,  from  the  marriage  service  of  the  Pro-> 
testant  Episcopal  faith,  met  the  ears  of  Likkum : 

"Ef,"  Job  was  saying  with  unstudied  eloquence,  as 
in  some  spirit  of  demonstration  of  all  right  to  and  prop- 
erty in  the  widow,  "they  be  any  crittur,"  Mrs.  Walm- 
sey's  admirer  added  strengthening  words  of  his  own, 
"w'at  kin  show  cause  why  we  two  should  not  be 
wedded — " 

When  Robert  Likkum  resolutely  broke  in  upon  the 
astounded  couple. 

"At  this  p'int,"  asserted  Bob,  with  quiet  and  be- 
coming dignity,  "they  is  one  who  not  only  kin  show 
cause,  but  kin  prove  that  ye 're  both  erbout  to  commit 
crime,  murder,  an'  make  everlastin'  ijuts  uv  yerselves! 
W'at,"  inquired  Ann  Mariah's  partisan,  with  polite 
sarcasm,  and  viewnng  Saunders  with  undisguised  con- 
tempt, while  Ann  ]\Iariah's  pleading  and  appealing  face 
rested  in  fancy  before  his  eyes,  "may  a  mere  stranger, 
w'at,  of  course,  has  never  seen  either  uv  ye  two  sens'ble 
people  afore,  ask,  are  ye  a-goin '  ter  eat  ? " 


374  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"Why — why, — "  blustered  the  lazy,  shiftless,  idle 
creature,  at  the  widow's  side, 

"Yes,  I  know,"  drily  articulated  Likkum  in  tones  of 
biting  irony,  "ye 're  a-goin'  ter  eat  'whys.'  Them's  good 
things  ter  eat.  Ye 're  a-goin',"  pursued  Bob  addressing 
Job  remorselessly,  and  feeling  vindicated  in  his  own 
moving  recollection  of  Ann, — "ye 're  a-goin'  to  soothe 
that  bu'sted  heart  o'  yourn  weth  ideel  bliss,  'thout 
w'ich  you  an'  ther  widder,  beggin'  her  pardin  fur  her 
not  a-knowin'  no  better,  is  a-goin'  ter  die  uv  blighted 
lives.  Ye  must  hev'  the  spurrin's  an'  the  promp tin's  of 
thet  deelishus  time  uv  youth,"  (the  widow  and  Job 
were  no  longer  young),  "a-satisfied,  w'en  the  feelin's — 
I  may  say,"  added  Job's  relentless  mentor  coldly,  "the 
tender  feelin's  uv  the  young  must  plunge  and  revel  in 
the  clear  lake  uv  love.  Arter  w'ich  ye 're  goin'  ter 
sponge  er  starve. ' ' 

Any  other  of  independence  equal  to  Job's  worthless- 
ness  would  have  rebelled.  Indolent,  no  account,  Job, 
likewise,  knew  his  man  and  accepted,  thus  far,  the  fiat 
but,  nevertheless,  feebly  essayed  his  own  defense. 

"My  father "  spluttered  the  routed  lover. 

Robert  Likkum,  with  difficulty,  refrained  from  losing 
his  bodily  unrightness  under  this  last  wild,  desperate 
and  hopeless  revival  of  the  Saunders'  family  tradition 
concerning  the  anticipated  return  of  the  senior  Croesus 
of  the  Saunders  house.  After  a  brief  and  fitting  strug- 
gle, however,  he  succeeded  in  stifling  an  almost  uncon- 
trollable outburst  of  the  most  intense  and  sardonic 
merriment. 

"Yer  father's  a-comin'  home  weth  yer  great  expecta- 
tions, eh?"  after  which  remark,  delivered  in  the  briefest 
and  most  withering  satire,  Bob  Likkum  concluded. 

"I  say,"  wound  up  Bob,  really  irresponsible  with  his 
own  heart  torn  by  thoughts  of  Ann's  life  unrequited 


DE  HAS  FRIENDS  AT  WORK.  375 

through  this  booby,  on  the  sofa,  by  the  side  of  Widow 
Walmsey,  and  addressing  Job  and  very  calmly  inserting 
the  last  thrust  of  the  knife  under  the  fifth  rib  of  the 
paralyzed  Saunders,  "ask  yer  sister  Ann  Mariah's  fur- 
giveness,  an '  go  drown  yerself  in  the  Wabash.  It 's  go  'n ' 
to  be  a  freshet  'nuff,  weth  the  rains  a-comin',  ter  kiver 
even  a  ass  as  big  as  yer  air,"  and  Mr.  Likkum  turned 
him  from  that  palsied  double  presence  and  went  away, 
having  done  good  work. 

It  will  not  be  long,  now,  when  the  sentimental  and 
unhappy  suitor  for  the  affections  of  the  buxom  widow 
will  receive  his  modest  dismissal  and,  it  is  to  be  hoped, 
a  kinder  fate  at  the  hands  of  the  present  grateful  and 
appreciative  author,  whose  task,  at  last,  will  have  been 
completed.  Until  that  time,  it  is  only  desirable  to  say 
that  Job  Saunders  rose  from  the  side  of  the  object  of  his 
untimely  passion  and,  in  becoming  silence  and  the  bell 
crown  beaver,  passed  out  of  the  fair  widow's  temporarily 
embarrassing  presence.  Love,  it  might  be  said,  appear- 
ed to  coldly  avert  his  face,  as  if  the  tender  and  poetic 
little  god  and  Mr.  Job  Saunders  "never  spoke,  as  they 
passed  by."  Job  departed  for  his  home,  and,  there,  in- 
comprehensible as  it  may  seem,  flew  immediately  and 
madly  at  the  work  of  the  small  farm  plot.  His  sister 
Ann  ]\Iariah,  in  great  distress,  thought  her  indolent  and 
shiftless  brother  had  become  suddenly  and  dangerously 
ill;  and  viewed,  with  anxiously  increasing  alarm,  his 
volcanic  actions  before  she  was  finally  convinced  of  their 
entire  and  bona  fide  sanity.  After  this.  Job  Saunders, 
in  a  continuous  and  unbroken  record  of  persistent  and 
effective  industry,  came  to  be  regarded,  by  his  simple 
and  trusting  kinswoman,  in  the  light  of  one  of  the  seven 
wonders  of  the  world. 

William  White,  left  alone  to  his  own  thoughts,  as  a 
result  of  Robert  Likkum's  revelations  concerning  Brad 


37fi  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

Simons'  newly  hatched  political  chicanery  affecting  the 
approaching  convention,  was  far  more  disturbed  and  un- 
easy than  he  had  wished  Bob  Likkum  to  know.  Brad 
was  getting  up  some  shadows  of  his  own.  The  dark  and 
lowering  reflection  of  the  cattleman  was  beginning,  in 
many  ways,  finally  and  threateningly  to  loom  up  against 
the  vital  face  of  the  future,  in  the  varied  affairs  of 
White's  community  interest,  with  a  far  deeper  and  more 
significant  meaning  than  the  writer-politician  cared  to 
confess  to  himself,  much  less  to  his  anxious  and  faith- 
ful friend  and  congressional  manager,  Robert  Likkum. 
Brad's  present  and  latest  manifestation  of  knavery, 
representing  the  firebrand  of  concealed,  treacherous  and 
desperate  political  cabal,  therefore,  was  intensified,  in 
its  present  unobscured  and  deadly  glare  upon  the  unex- 
plored and  unknown  waters  of  the  writer's  troubled  way 
ahead,  by  the  ominous  shape  of  the  stealthy,  silent  cattle 
dealer  steadily  developing,  at  this  period,  in  power  and 
menace,  day  by  day. 

"Mr.  White,"  said  Smoky  Billings,  entering  White's 
room  and  smoothing  his  own  face  convulsed  in  recol- 
lection of  Bob's  assault  on  Job,  which  he  had  just  over- 
heard, "I've  been  a-prospectin'  some,  as  the  feller  says, 
an'  I  b'lieve  that  you'd  be  interested,  sir,  to  hear  what 
I've  learned,  out  there,"  which  final  words  Smoky  in- 
dicated, by  a  wave  of  his  strong  arm,  to  mean  a  general 
direction  that  might  lead  to  the  farm  of  Brad  Simons. 

White,  still  seated  ruminatively  in  his  apartment, 
sedately  put  aside  his  own  meditations  and  addressed 
himself  gravely  to  Billings. 

"Have  you  been  over  yonder?"  questioned  the 
writer,  in  the  atmosphere  of  tacit  understanding  existing 
between  the  two  upon  the  subject  of  Brad  Simons'  af- 
fairs, and  turning  slowly  in  his  chair  until  he  faced  the 
lasteomer. 


DE  HAS  FRIENDS  AT  WORK.  377 

"Yes,  sir — that's  it — I've  been  a-eruisin'  over 
there,"  said  Smoky  going  to  the  door  and  seeing  that  it 
was  carefully  closed,  and  then  returning;  "and  I  think 
I  've  took  a  reef  in  his  sails. ' ' 

"Yes,"  said  White,  quietly,— " what  is  it?" 

"Well,  sir, — as  I  tol'  you,  already, — I  got  acquainted 
with  this  'ere  Rachel  Bolers,  'at  wanders  around  the 
country,  and  got  her  frien'sliip  along  o'  me  knowin'  of 
feelin's  she  has  ag'in'  Brad  Simons.  I  sees  her  fu'st, 
as  I  tells  you,  w  'en  I  wuz  with  them  there  robbers. ' ' 

Smoky  had  "smoked  out,"  as  the  old  country  saying 
has  it, — which  pardonably  translated  means  found  out, 
— very  little,  as  yet;  or  sufficient,  in  any  sense,  to  war- 
rant him,  before  this,  in  coming  to  his  chief  with  in- 
formation. It  is,  therefore,  but  fair  to  presume  that  the 
rather  skirmishing  experience,  which  he  now  related  for 
the  first  time  to  his  employer,  was  in  the  nature  alone  of 
a  reconnaissance.  It  was  probably  based  upon  the  detec- 
tive instincts  of  Smoky  Billings  sharpened  by  his  inter- 
view with  Rachel  Bolers  in  the  haunted  wood,  when  she 
had  urged  him  to  see  Mona  Walker,  Brad  Simons' 
housekeeper.  The  cunning  of  Simons,  or  the  difficulty 
experienced  by  Rachel  in  adjusting  herself  to  a  more 
definite  course  of  action  in  her  prompting  of  Billings, 
had  thoroughly  tested  the  powers  of  opportunity  and 
patience  possessed  by  the  sailor.  He  engaged  White,  at 
this  point,  both  with  a  sense  of  the  delicacy  of  the 
situation  and  its  equal  seriousness. 

"Smoky,"  said  White,  "did  you  get  into  that  cave, 
before  you  left  those  fellows,  that  time  you  were  with 
the  outlaws?" 

"No,  sir,"  replied  Wliite's  follower.  "Ye  see,  I  lit 
out  from  'em,  afore  they  kum  to  the  cave,  w'en  I  seen 
w'at  they  vraz  doin',  that  night,  to  you, — though  me  not 
knowin'  you,  then,  and  me  a-hopin'  to  find  some  help, 


378  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

•w'ich  I  failed  fur  to  do;  an'  I've  tried,  times,  since  to 
find  the  secret  entrance ;  but,  whiles  I  think  I  know  'bout 
where  't  is,  I  can't  quite  fetch  it,  somehow. 

"At  the  time  I  was  deceived  into  goin'  in  with  them 
there    gang   uv    desperadoes,"    continued    Billings,    "I 
learned,   yo'   see,   somethin'    'bout   their   biz'ness,    and 
found  out  somep'n'  in  the  affairs   of  Rachel — Rachel 
Bolers.    Now,  sir,  to  return,  as  th'  feller  sez,  to  Mr.  Si- 
mons:    Mrs.  Bolers  put  me  onto  that  'ere  gen'lman's 
housekeeper;  an',"  went  on  the  speaker,  closing  his  eye 
with  the  retrospective  air  of  a  connoisseur, — "an'  she 
may  be  said,  sir,  to  be  a  pretty  un' — a  prettier  un'  and 
a  tidier  craft,"  added  Smoky,  yielding,  in  a  generous 
burst  of  extra  commendation,  to  a  nautical  illustration, 
"I  have  hardly  ever  laid  these  here  two  bullseyes  onto. 
That  hair  o'  hern  is  like  the  glory  uv  th'  settin'  sun — all 
gold  and  burnin' !    Well,  you  see,  sir,"  said  the  suscepti- 
ble sailor,  recovering  from  his  fervent  rhapsody,  "I  was 
just  passin'  in  that  neighborhood,  an'  the  feelings  of 
sociableness  is  so  strong  betA\dxt  the  gen'leman  an'  me, 
that  I  thought  I'd  just  stop  by  and  look  in,  a  moment. 
It  was  rather  late,"  went  on  Smoky  Billings,  "and  I 
calculated  on  the  want  of  ettikette  in  droppin'  in  on  a 
mate  fur  a  social  call,  at  eleven  o'clock  in  the  evenin', 
even  if  that  mate  does  love  anybuddy  as  much  as  he 
loves  me,"  Smoky  grinned.     "So  I  just  kind  o'  hitched 
my  horse  in  the  woods,  and  went  around  by  the  barn 
where,  on  pri-or  and  pree-vious  occasions,  I  have,  as  the 
poet  writer  says,  'disported  myself  upon  the  haymow,* 
overhearing    of   him    and   her    talk.    While    standin','' 
Smoky    continued    to    relate    to    the    deeply    interested 
White,  "at  the  barn — it  was  dark — the  moon  not  yet 
risin'  (rising) — I  seen  him  step  to  a  winder  in  the  set- 
tin'  room,  downstairs,  in  the  full  light  of  the  lamp,  the 
winder  curtain  up.    He  turned  back  into  the  room,  an' 


DE  HAS  FRIENDS  AT  WORK.  379 

a  female  figur ',  the  housekeeper,  come  into  the  light,  and 
turned  an'  went  back.  I  thought  they  seemed  anxious 
and  a-conversin',  this  way, — a-movin'  about  the  room, 
keepin'  time  to  their  feelin's  like, — so,  I  went  over,  an' 
stood  under  the  winder.  There  was  a  hole  in  a  winder 
pane,"  said  Smoky  Billings  scratching  his  head,  as  he 
recalled  his  society  manners,  "and  I  heard  him  sayin': 
'Keep  out  of  my  way,  Mona,'  and  I  heard  ]\Iona  say, 
'No,  I  won't.'  An',  ye  see,  Mona  wuz  the  housekeeper, 
who  I  know'd  on'y  by  sight.  'Then,'  says  he,  'I'll  fix 
you.'  'Oh,  wall  you?'  says  Mona,  sarcastic.  'Yes,'  he 
says.  'Wlien  will  you  do  it?'  says  Mona, — 'when  you 
marry  me? — you've  talked  long  'nuff  'bout  makin'  me 
yer  \nfe  to  be  doin'  it,  and  now  you've  got  to  keep  yer 
word.'  'Oh!' says  he.  'Yes,  "oh!",'  says  Mona,  quick 
as  lightning,  'I've  got  yer  promise.'  'Well,'  says  he, 
'you  .can't  prove  it.  Our  agreement  was  took,  when  the 
bank  was  robbed. '  'You're  a  fiend,' says  Mona.  'Thank 
you,'  says  he." 

When  Smoky  Billings  had  arrived  at  the  above  point 
in  the  narrative  of  what  he  had  been  the  witness  and 
auditor  of  as  transpiring  between  Brad  Simons  and  his 
housekeeper,  Slona  Walker,  White  turned  thoughtfully 
to  the  window. 

That  which  Smoky  had  just  related,  so  far,  tallied 
with  gossip;  and,  while  it  might  undeniably  point,  to 
say  the  least  of  it,  to  questionable  doings  of  Brad  Si- 
mons, it  had,  that  White  could  perceive,  no  determinate 
bearing  upon  any  unfair  or  underhand  scheme  in  the 
presecution  of  De,  which,  through  Billings'  investiga- 
tions, and  the  divinations  and  suspicions  of  the  literary 
man, — and  love  is  wonderfully  wise,  at  times, — the  latter 
had  become  finally  convinced  Brad  Simons  was  con- 
-ducting. 

Billings  had  been  silently  eying  his  friend  and  bene- 


380  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

factor;  and,  now,  as  if  divining  what  was  passing  in 
White's  mind,  he  broke  the  silence,  saying: 

"That  ain't  all,  cap'n." 

The  writer  turned  to  the  speaker. 

"What  more?"  he  asked. 

"There's  some  mystery,  some'eres,  Mr.  White,"  said 
Billings;  "and  that  woman,  Rachel  Bolers,  is  somehow 
a-sailin'  aroun'  in  it." 

"Do  you  know,  Smoky,"  rejoined  White,  "I've 
thought,  more  than  once,  that  Rachel  Bolers  put  that 
paper  in  Uncle  Peter's  harness  room!  I  don't  know 
why  I  've  thought  so,  but  I  have. ' ' 

"She  putt  it  jes'  thare,"  gravely  returned  Smoky, 
solemnly  wagging  his  head,  covered  with  its  shock  of 
coarse,  dark  hair,  at  William  White. 

"She  put  it  there,  then,  did  she!"  exclaimed  the 
writer,  who  had  been  previously  informed,  by  Billings, 
of  the  discovery  of  the  heretofore  unexplained  scrap  of 
writing,  and  who  was  pleased  at  this  sudden  and  un- 
looked  for  confirmation  of  his  own  surmise. 

"She  put  it  thare,"  assented  William  Wliite's  com- 
panion. "She  put  it  thare,  she  tole  me,  sure  'nuff,  as 
a  warnin ',  in  her  own  way,  to  ye  all.  An '  I  tells  ye,  it 's 
a  queer  cuss  of  a  world,  an'  ye  got  to  keep  yer  toplights 
open;  an'  them  there  seemin'  crazy  people  does  queer 
things,  an'  gits  suddenly  sane  's  you  er  me;  an'  there's 
method,  sometimes,  too,  anyway,  in  the'r  madness,"  said 
Smoky,  "as  is  like  thet  play  what  Shakespeare  writ, 
called  Hamlet,  and  as  is  peculiar,  see  ? " 

While  Smoky's  comments  upon  the  mentally  un- 
sound and  the  poet's  great  play  were  sincere,  Wliite 
said  nothing. 

"Rachael  Bolers  was  a-layin'  around  Simons'  prem- 
ises, that  night,  I  pay  him  this  'ere  sociable  call,  I  tells. 
you  about,"  added  Billings,  in  a  tone  which  implicit  he 


DE  HAS  FRIENDS  AT  WORK  381 

threw  in  this  piece  of  extra  information  for  what  it  was 
worth. 

"Why,  Smoky,  you  know  she  is  kno\vn  to  wander, 
at  will,  all  over  the  country,"  replied  White. 

"Yes,"  said  Smoky,  "but,  that  night,  I  tells  you 
about,  she  was  as  sane  as  you  er  me." 

This  was  a  statement  of  fact  of  so  distinctly  surpris- 
ing a  character  as  to  challenge  even  White's  belief  had 
he  not  long  since  conceived  the  theory  that  Rachel  was 
playing  a  part.  However,  he  met  the  assertion  of  seem- 
ingly so  impossible  an  occurrence  with  an  expression  of 
astonished  disbelief. 

"But,  I  tell  you,"  persisted  Billings,  "no  doubt 
about  it — I  talked  with  her. ' ' 

"With  Rachel  Bolers?"  queried  De's  old  lover. 

Smoky  stubbornly  nodded  his  head. 

"And  what  did  she  have  to  say?"  asked  the  other 
appearing  genuinely  and  completely  nonplussed. 

"She's  got  some  grudge  ag'in'  that  feller  Simons," 
rejoined  Billings  gazing  intently  into  his  companion's 
eyes. 

"Did  you,"  eagerly  questioned  William  Wliite  pass- 
ing over,  for  a  moment,  the  strange  mental  conditions 
governing  IMrs.  Bolers'  sudden  and  unexpected  recovery 
of  her  senses,  in  the  deeper  interest  in  what  she  might 
be  capable  of  affording  in  the  way  of  information  to 
assist  the  speaker  in  his  perplexities  with  regard  to  the 
scheming  stock  raiser, — "did  you  learn  from  her  what 
Simons  is  up  to.  Smoky?" 

"Not  altogether,"  said  Smoky,  "but  I  mean  to  see 
his  little  old  bluff  and  call  it.     She—" 

"Rachel — ?"  inquiringly  interrupted  the  other's 
employer. 

'Rachel  Bolers,"  acquiesced  Smoky  Billings  quietly, 
"is  a-goin'  to  git  at  them  robber  devils  fur  me,  an'  fur 


382  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

Mona,  Brad  Simons'  p'utty  housekeeper,  ef  she  kin,  an' 
git  that  'air  marriage  agreement  w'at,  it's  p'utty  sar- 
t'in  sure,  they  stole — 'at  them  outlaws  stole  frum  the 
bank.    Mona  wants  it,  an '  so  do  I. " 

"That  will  do  Mona  good,  no  doubt;  but  how  will 
it  help  us.  Smoky?"  patiently  asked  William  White, 

"Well,  Mr.  White,"  candidly  replied  the  man,  "out- 
side uv  giner'ly  bio  win'  Simons'  ol'  hulk  out  uv  the 
water,  and  jist  nach'ly  showin'  uv  'im  up  fur  a  scoun'rel 
in  his  relashuns  weth  Miss  Mona,  I  ain  't  sure ;  but  I  got 
a  kind  uv  a  presentymunt  that  it'll  take  a  reef  in  'is 
sails,  'at  he'll  hev'  trubble  a-gittin'  out  uv  'em,  w'en  'e 
wants,  ag'in,  ter  bowl  afore  the  win',  in  any  new  er 
present  course  uv  evil  ways."  With  this  exhaustive 
and  satisfactory  analysis  of  his  position  in  the  matter  of 
Brad's  threatening  and  dubious  craft,  and  with  a  pe- 
culiarly impressive  shake  of  the  head.  Smoky  took  a 
mariner's  unmeasured  "chaw  of  tobacker,"  and  rumi- 
nated in  the  face  of  his  beloved  benefactor, 

"I  hope  you  may  be  right.  Smoky,  my  man,"  said 
White  simply.  "They're  a  daring  lot," — the  literary 
man  unconsciously  included  Simons  with  the  other  out- 
laws,— "and  we're  going  to  have  all  we  want  to  do  to 
circumvent  them." 

And  Smoky  agreed. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 


ONE      OF  THEM      LITERARY      FELLERS  THREATENS      TO 

ACHIEVE  RENOWN. — A   RESCUE   IS  EFFECTED   FROM 

THE    RAGING    WATERS    OF    THE    FLOOD. 

One  evening,  when  "thro'  the  sycamores  the  candle 
lights  were  gleaming,"  William  White,  who  had  sworn 
to  a  friendship  for  De  in  whatever  troubles,  known  or 
unknown,  that  might  hedge  her  about,  went  over  to  Peter 
Braddock's  farmhouse.  He  found  the  family  of  Farmer 
Braddock  unusually  cheerful  and,  when  he  walked  in 
upon  Mrs.  Braddock  and  Uncle  Peter  and  De,  White 
could  not  but  feel  a  kind  of  reflection  of  their  evident 
high  spirits.  Even  if  De  did  not  seem  wholly  happy, 
her  face,  when  the  subject  of  the  approaching  trial  of 
her  brother  was  broached,  wore  a  look  of  confident  an- 
ticipation, which  expressed  something  of  decision  and 
content.  Brad  Simons  had  been  effective  in  his  efforts 
and  assurances  in  the  matter  of  John's  prospective 
acquittal.  Mother  Braddock  was  in  excellent  spirits, 
and  the  fat  farmboy  Esau,  on  whom  some  additional  and 
unaccountable  exhilaration  appeared  to  have  descended, 
joined  the  air  of  Mother  Braddock's  joy  with  appropri- 
ate selections  of  song,  joke  and  retort.  The  banjo,  noted 
once  before  as  one  of  De's  souvenirs  of  happier  days 
with  William,  was  brought  forth,  and  the  strangely 
exalted  Esau  proved  himself  eminently  successful  upon 
the  rollicking  instrument  and  rendered  some  choice 
selections  of  Wabash  melodies.  De,  like\^^se,  was,  once 
more,  prevailed  upon  to  fill  the  little  parlor  with  the 
musical  trance  of  her  o^^^l  rich  young  voice. 

383 


384  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

At  length  came  White's  turn  and,  in  response  to  an 
universal  call  upon  the  efforts  of  that  literary  artist,  the 
poet-author  recited  the  following  original  verse: 

"lost  river." 

To  those  who  have  closely  followed  the  text  of  the  narrative,  or  to 
those  having  other  satisfactory  means  of  information,  it  may  not  be  neces- 
sary to  say  that  Lost  River,  an  actual  stream  in  southern  Indiana,  the 
scene  of  our  present  story,  has  no  known  source,  and.  in  the  course  of  its 
wanderings  on  the  earth,  will  disappear  suddenly  and  unaccountably,  and 
afterward  reappear  in  a  manner  quite  as  mysterious  and  unexplainable 
as  that  surrounding  Its  birth;  these  wayward  actions  of  its  picturesque  and 
erratic  life  occurring  with  a  baffling,  curious  though  interesting  fre- 
quency.—Auth. 

"Lost  river  !  seek  your  lonely  way, 

Through  field  and  forest,  hills  and  plain: 

Striving  forever  thus  to  shrink 
From  sight  and  toil,  in  vain. 

Our  course  is  run,  our  journey  sped, 
In  present  sorrows — passing  joys; 
We  may  not  flee  the  call  of  one, 
Nor  still  the  other's  voice. 

Fair,  wand'ring  stream,  whence  is  your  flow, 
That  softly  leaves  our  fuller  sight; 
But  fills  with  faith  our  eager  souls, 
In  fancy's  magic  flight; 

For,  as  with  you,  we  disappear, 
And,  yet,  unseen  may  not  remain; 
So  they,  that  pass  from  shore  to  shore, 
Shall  sink  to  rise,  again. 

Whence  come  your  deep,  mute  mystery; 
Your  quiet,  cool,  alluring  thrall; 
That  sense  of  rest  and  still  repose 
Sent  at  our  voiceless  call  ? 

Your  chanting  waters,  murm'ring  groves 
Are  full  of  haunting  shapes,  and  fraught 
With  gentle  mem'ries,  dear  delights 
That  happiness  has  wrought: 

Once  more,  your  banks  with  spring  are  green, 
And  soft  beneath  my  resting  form; 
While  love,  from  out  yon  beck'ning  glade, 
Comes  smiling  in  her  charm. — 


RENOWN.— RESCUE.  385 

As  does  the  weary  traveler,  here, 
Who  has  the  blessed  right  to  lose 
The  boist'i'ous  world  that  roars  afar, 
And,  by  your  marge,  to  muse, 

So,  silent  river,  steal  away. 
And  leave  the  brawling  day  behind. 
To  find  a  hidden  hour  of  rest. 
In  parts  remote  and  kind." 

The  modest  effort  was  gracefully  applauded  by  the 
simple  gathering;  and  Esau,  much  to  Mr.  Braddock's 
impatient  displeasure,  stated  roundly  that, 

' '  Them  there  sentyments  wuz,  ez  it  struck  him,  purty 
nigh  the  nayborhood  uv  erbout  the  ke  'rect  thing. ' ' 

Uncle  Peter,  upon  whom  the  effect  of  the  poem  had 
been  singularly  and  noticeably  impressive, — and  with  a 
sense  of  deep  and  unexpected  gratification  in  the  suc- 
cess of  the  poet  upon  a  theme  of  pleasing  and  especial 
interest  to  the  old  man, — felt,  in  a  prompting  of  jealous 
monopoly  of  appreciation  not  uncommon,  impelled  to 
turn  his  customary  and,  in  this  instance,  unjustifiable 
nagging  upon  the  joyous  Esau. 

"Whut,"  in  a  somewhat  petulant  fashion,  said  the 
Indiana  farmer  to  the  seemingly  irrepressible  boyj  "do 
ye  know  about  it  ? " 

"I  wnzn't  a-doin'  nothin',''  said  the  unlucky  Esau, 
who  took  from  no  other  what,  after  all,  he  was  not 
especially  unhappy  in  taking  from  Uncle  Peter. 

"Then  don't,"  sententiously,  observed  the  "Wabash 
tiller  of  the  soil.  "Them  there  verses  o'  youm,  Will- 
ium,"  remarked  the  same  rustic  critic,  here  turning  his 
attention  to  White,  "is  fine."  Uncle  Peter,  upon  being 
lately  reminded  that  public  men,  statesmen  and  politi- 
cians wrote  books,  and  various  other  things  too  numer- 
ous to  mention,  had,  as  he  thought,  at  last  mastered  the 
purposes   of   literature,   and   proceeded.     "That   there 


386  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

po  'me  0 '  yourn,  Willium, ' '  continued  Uncle  Peter,  while 
he  smoothed  his  captious  visage,  the  result  of  his  recent 
passage  with  Esau,  into  a  look  of  determined  and  grave 
judgment,  "orter  send  ye  to  congress,  immejut." 

With  the  humility  characterizing  the  producer  of  a 
cause  for  such  vast  and  incredible  advancement,  White 
hastened  to  disclaim  merits  so  considerable  and  lofty, 
but  Uncle  Peter  would  not  listen  to  his  denials. 

"No,  sir,  I  mean  jes'  v,hut  I  sez, "  stoutly  maintained 
the  old  gentleman.  ' '  Now,  I  want  to  tell  ye, ' '  continued 
the  farmer,  "what  they  do  say  down  to  Jacobs'  Store," 
mentioning  the  celebrated  resort  of  the  neighborhood 
for  the  dispensation  of  universal  gossip,  political  and 
otherwise;  "they  do  say  to  Jacobs'  Store,  'at  yer  orter 
perk  up  a  bit,  an'  go  in  fur  the  honors  uv  the  people  to 
Wash 'ton,  fur  sure." 

In  happy  ignorance  of  the  obstacles  that  had  sprung 
up  in  the  way  of  William  White's  union  with  their 
daughter,  the  good  elders  of  the  Braddock  household  had 
about  agreed  upon  the  desirability  of  White  as  a  possible 
future  son  in  law. 

De  had  kept  her  own  counsel,  meeting,  for  the  sake 
of  John,  uncomplainingly'  that  which  had  been  thrust 
upon  her,  and  going  to  her  daily  round  of  self  denial  and 
duty  with  as  cheerful  and  unstudied  a  sense  of  fortitude, 
endurance  and  resignation  as  might  be.  Of  course,  it 
was  the  destruction  of  her  own  life's  hopes,  a  union  with 
this  man  Brad  Simons,  but  the  object,  to  her  sense  of 
understanding,  was  too  great — too  dear,  in  her  simple 
and  unaffected  unselfishness  and  sincerity,  for  her  to 
hesitate,  a  moment,  in  the  course  to  pursue. 

It  was  all  settled  in  her  own  mind — some  day,  she 
might  tell  William  all  about  it — the  whys  and  the  where- 
fores— it  might  even,  sometime,  be  her  duty  to  do  so — 
but,  now,  her  way  was  plain  before  her — silence  and 


KENOWN.—  RESCUE.  387 

wait.  So  neither  the  mother  nor  the  father,  any  more 
than  William  White  himself,  was  aware  of  the  girl's  act 
of  Spartan  and  sublime  heroism. 

As,  with  seeming  unconstraint  and  old  time  enjoy- 
ment to  De  and  William,  the  evening  wore  on,  the  rain 
renewed  an  unusually  heavy  downpour  that,  with  little 
intermission,  had  been  continuing  for  several  days. 

"Th'  bottoms,"  remarked  the  elder  Braddock,  re- 
ferring to  the  lowlands  lying  along  the  river,  "  '11  be 
purty  nigh  drownded  out,  ef  this  keeps  up." 

As  the  torrent  came  down,  and  the  wind  arose  and 
rattled  and  beat  upon  doors,  and  then  whirled  away 
with  the  rain  to  burst  in  great  splashes  against  the  barn, 
and  the  thunder  broke  in  a  deafening  roar,  and  the 
lightning  rent  and  gashed  the  night.  White  recalled  the 
last  he  had  seen  of  Smoky  Billings. 

That  evening  in  the  lull  of  the  storm,  just  previously 
to  William  White  leaving  the  house  of  Widow  Walm- 
sey,  Smoky  had  come  to  him  and  said  that  he  wanted  to 
make  "a  social  call."  Smoky's  friend  very  well  knew 
what  was  meant  by  this  speech,  but  admitted  no  compre- 
hension which  might  have  led  even  Billings  himself  or 
another  to  suppose  it  was  understood  that  White 's  ener- 
getic and  resolved  man  had  a  repetition  of  a  visit  to  Si- 
mons' place  in  view. 

It  now  occurred  to  the  writer  to  wonder  if  Smoky 
had  reached  shelter  from  the  fury  of  the  tempest  ? 

' '  I  wouldn  't  care  for  any  harm  to  come  to  him ! ' ' 
thought  White  to  whom,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  subject 
of  his  reflections  was  no  more  affectionately  attached, 
than  was  the  writer  to  Billings  himself. 

And  where  was  Smoky? 

As  evening  had  come  on  apace,  the  heavy  downpour 
of  rain  had  suspended  sufficiently  for  William  White  to 
walk,  from  his  own  boarding  place  at  ilrs.  Walmsey's 


388  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

about  a  mile  away,  up  to  Uncle  Peter's  place.  Accord- 
ingly, sufficient  cessation  in  the  storm  had  occurred  to 
warrant  Smoky  Billings  in  sallying  forth  upon  special 
business  in  hand ;  although  it  is  very  doubtful,  after  he 
had  decided  where  lay  the  means  to  such  important  re- 
sults as  he  had  in  mind,  whether  a  sudden  disposition 
on  the  part  of  the  heavens  themselves  to  fall  in  would 
have  deterred  him  in  his  quest.  Smoky,  therefore,  had 
set  forth  from  Widow  Walmsey's,  and  was  last  seen, 
that  evening,  by  White,  making  progress  down  the  road 
in  the  direction  of  Simons'  farm  a  few  miles  distant. 

White's  henchman,  riding  his  chief's  horse,  pro- 
ceeded until  he  came  within  easy  reach  of  Brad  Simons' 
stables,  when  he  dismounted  and  tied  the  animal  in  a 
neighboring  clump  of  trees.  This  accomplished,  he  stole 
around  to  the  barn  Avhich  loomed  an  object  of  shadowy 
and  vague  proportions  not  far  off  in  the  night.  It  was 
now  the  rain  came  on,  and  found  the  scout,  at  about 
nine  or  ten  o'clock,  sheltering  himself  within  the  com- 
fortable precincts  of  Simons'  barn. 

Smoky  was  serenely  and  meditatively  listening  to  the 
wind  and  rain  beating  upon  the  objects  without.  The 
dark  interior  of  the  barn,  v^herein  the  man  had  taken  up 
his  temporary  quarters,  was  occupied  by  no  noises  other 
than  those  of  the  outside  storm,  with  its  fitful  peals  of 
thunder  attended  by  the  blinding  glare  of  lightning  and 
then,  in  the  comparative  hush,  the  stamp  of  a  horse's 
hoof;  when  there  suddenly  passed  over  the  waiting 
Billings  something  as  nearly  allied  to  the  first,  faint, 
creeping  tremors  of  fear  as,  with  Smoky,  was  possible  or 
even  agreeable.  An  involuntary  impulse  caused  the 
waiting  man  to  sit  up  from  a  reclining  attitude  luxuri- 
ously enjoyed  upon  a  pile  of  empty  sacks.  There  was 
the  "feel"  of  someone  present,  other  than  himself.  He 
listened  intently.    He  could  hear  nothing  but  the  storm. 


RENOWN.—  RESCUE.  389 

tho'  his  hearing  seemed  as  sensible  of  that  mysterious, 
silent  "something,"  as  any  other  part  of  him.  He  put 
out  his  hand,  and  instantly  withdrew  it — there  ivas 
something  there !  Smoky  Billings  was  no  coward,  but  his 
flesh  crawled  with  an  indefinable  chill,  and  the  geese,  in 
the  neighboring  barnyard,  could  not  have  displayed  a 
finer  crop  of  "goose  flesh,"  than  the  worthy  spy. 

"Who's  there?"  asked  Billings  in  a  husky  whisper. 

There  was  no  response. 

"Wonder,"  flashed  through  his  brain,  "if  he's 
dead,"  which  remark  referred  to  any  unknown,  and  had 
no  special  application  to  Brad  Simons;  although  it 
would,  doubtless,  have  uncharitably  filled  various  souls 
with  satisfaction,  and  amongst  them  even  Smoky's  own, 
had  such  been  the  deceased  identity  of  the  subject  of 
Billings'  wondering  surmise. 

Dead  or  living,  the  cause  of  Smoky's  anxious  con- 
jectures kept  the  latter  in  a  state  of  painful  uncertainty 
and  suspense ;  until  Smoky,  at  last  brushing  aside  his 
unmanly  scruples,  struck  one  of  his  lucifers  which,  in 
sailor  habit,  he  carried  in  a  water  tight  case  about  him, 
and  allowed  its  flare  to  illumine  the  scene. 

"Well,"  muttered  Billings,  as  the  light  of  the  match 
died  away  and  expired,  leaving  a  spark  of  fire  in  the 
charred  wood,  which  suddenly,  as  if  dipped  in  water, 
disappeared  in  the  thick  gloom,  "I'll  be  blamed!" 
Smoky  had  recognized,  by  the  quick  flash  of  the  match, 
the  slumbering  form  and  features  of  Rachel  Bolers.  "I 
might 've  know'd  it." 

Billings  gave  himself  but  a  moment's  reflection  and, 
thrusting  forth  his  arm  a  second  time,  gently  roused  the 
slumberer. 

"Hu-s-h-h!"  warned  the  man,  bending  quickly  and 
closely  over  the  awakened  woman  lest  a  surprised  outcry 
of  alarm  might,  even  in  the  commotion  of  the  elements, 


390  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

be  an  imprudent  result  of  this  step;  "belay,  missis, — 
it 's  me — Smoky — Billings. ' ' 

"Oh,"  the  woman  said,  "it's  you,  is  it?" 

' '  Yes, ' '  repeated  Smoky.  ' '  I  f urgot  all  about  ye,  fur 
a  minute." 

There  was  evidently  an  understanding  which  had 
brought  them,  at  the  same  time,  to  Simons'  farm  that 
night. 

"Can  we  git  it,  ye  think?"  asked  Billings,  in  a  mut- 
tered Avhisper. 

"If  Brad's  away,  like  Mona  said,  we  kin,"  replied 
the  woman,  in  like  tones  of  subdued  utterance. 

"Let's  be  at  it,  then,"  whispered  Billings;  and,  de- 
spite the  inclement  and  threatening  nature  of  the  ele- 
ments raging  Avithout,  these  two  singular  partners  in  en- 
terprise crept  forth  from  the  barn  and  to  the  house ; 
and,  while  Billings  stole  to  an  adjacent  window  minus 
a  pane  of  glass,  the  woman  Rachel  Bolers  remained  un- 
der partial  shelter  and  protection  of  an  outhouse  close 
to  Simons'  dwelling. 

In  a  few  moments,  Billings  returned  to  Rachel  Bol- 
ers' side. 

"Simons  's  away  but  the  parson's  there,"  said  the 
man,  in  a  guarded  voice.  "Can't  do  nothin',  with  him 
there,  can  we?" 

At  this  instant,  there  was  a  lull  in  the  storm,  the 
wind  subsided  to  a  mere  breath,  and  the  rain,  for  a 
moment,  ceased  its  torrents  of  descending  water.  The 
sky,  scarcely  distinguishable  in  its  vast  and  murky  pall 
of  cloudland  overhead,  offered  but  a  dim,  boundless  view 
to  the  vision  cast  above  to  scan  or  search  the  density  of 
infinite  space.  Nearby,  the  roar  of  the  swollen  waters  of 
the  river  was  heard,  as  they  whirled  on  their  way  in  a 
sullen  angry  flood,  yellow  and  turbid  with  the  soil.  In 
the  still  moments  of  the  storm's  lull,  man  and  woman 


RENOWN.—  RESCUE.  391 

standing  beneath  the  shed  were  silent,  as  if  with  a 
species  of  breathless  and  intent  speculation  upon  their 
next  attempt,  a  condition  similar  to  that  of  the  sus- 
pended functions  of  the  tempest,  when,  out  upon  the 
night,  from  the  river,  rang  a  wild  cry  of, 

"Help!" 

"Listen,"  exclaimed  Billings,  his  seafaring  instincts 
alert,  and  laying  his  hand  upon  the  arm  of  Rachel. 

The  cry  was  repeated — 

"Help!"  it  rose  and  circled  through  the  air  about 
them. 

Smoky  darted  from  the  woman's  side. 

"I'll  get  the  parson,"  he  said,  as  he  sprang  away; 
"fix  the  other  with  INIona,  when  we're  gone,"  and,  the 
next  moment,  was  at  the  door  of  Simons'  house,  beating 
upon  the  door  and  calling  loudl}^ 

"In  there!  a  man  drowning  in  the  river.  Come 
out." 

There  were  sounds  of  hurrying  footsteps  within. 
Simons'  housekeeper  Mona  Walker,  and  Parson  Woods, 
both  with  looks  of  alarm,  came  hastening  to  the  door. 

Billings  dragged  Woods  rapidly  away  towards  the 
river  plunging  by  like  horses  running  mad,  and  not  far 
from  Brad  Simons'  very  door,  the  cattleman's  house 
standing  on  an  elevated  piece  of  ground  overlooking  the 
raging  flood.  Smoky  paused  a  moment  at  the  barn,  en- 
tered hastily,  snatched  up  a  lantern  he  knew  to  be  there 
and  lit  it.  He  next  turned,  with  indescribable  swiftness, 
seized  a  coil  of  rope,  ran  out  of  the  barn  and  rejoined 
Parson  Woods. 

"Come  along,"  Billings  cried  to  Woods  and  leaping 
forward  was  followed  by  the  willing  minister. 

"Mate,"  called  the  onetime  sailor,  projecting  his 
powerful  voice  beyond  to  the  swollen  river,  "we're  com- 
ing," and  the  next  instant  showed  Smoky  Billings,  by 


392  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

the  light  of  the  lantern  swinging  in  his  hand,  the  edge 
of  the  great  waters  creeping  in  at  his  feet.  The  resolute 
sailor  perceived  the  faint  dim  outlines  of  a  tree  standing 
firm  and  true  in  the  struggling  torrent,  at  a  critical  dis- 
tance beyond  in  the  risen  tide  of  the  river  racing  past, 
and,  in  the  tree's  swaying  branches  lashing  the  wild 
current,  clung  a  man  for  dear  life. 

"Here,  parson,"  cried  Billings,  and  he  ran  along  the 
margin  of  the  flood  to  a  point  further  up  the  stream. 
When  he  had  gained  a  position  above  the  trees,  and  so 
that  one,  in  the  river,  starting  to  swim  out  to  the  rescue, 
would  just  reach  the  swirling  branches,  w^hen  swept 
down  stream  by  the  rush  of  current,  he  stopped. 
Smoky's  old  seafaring  life  and  training  rose  strong  ^^^tll- 
in  him.  The  rope,  ample  in  length,  had,  by  rapid  and 
skilful  manipulations  of  the  nimble  fingers  of  Parson 
Woods'  companion,  already  been  attached  firmly  to 
Smoky  Billings'  waist;  and  when  the  latter  finally 
turned  to  the  minister,  and,  holding  out  an  end  of  the 
rope,  said  simply, 

"Take  a  turn  o'  this  here,"  the  preacher  knew  what 
the  nervy  fellow  meant. 

"Use  care,  Billings,  and  God  be  with  you,"  was  all 
the  parson  said. 

' '  Amen,  parson ! ' '  and  the  man  sprang  into  the  flood 
sweeping  by. 

A  moment  later,  two  figures  were  dra\vn  dripping, 
but  otherwise  safe,  from  the  turbulent  and  swollen 
stream. 

Parson  Woods,  in  the  light  of  the  lantern  held  close 
to  the  face  of  the  rescued  unkno^Ti,  fell  back  as  one 
who  had  been  smitten. 

"Cy  Saunders!"  gasped  the  bewildered  expounder 
of  the  gospel,  groping  blindly  among  his  paralyzed 
faculties. 


RENOWN.—  RESCUE.  393 

It  was  true. 

The  river,  Smoky  Billings  and  Parson  Woods  had 
mysteriously  given  back  the  senior  Saunders  to  his  long 
expectant  family  and,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  much  sur- 
prised friends. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 


THE  THRILLING  AND  SENSATIONAL   RELIGIOUS   SCRUPLES  OP 
DE  BRADDOCK. 

De  Braddock,  in  all  the  wide  world  of  affairs,  was 
not  the  only  one  to  have  to  face,  at  one  and  the  same 
time,  the  duty  to  the  unseen  and  the  duty  to  them  on 
earth  most  beloved.  By  a  word,  she  could  save  John. 
Could  she  say  that  word,  when  it  was  not  true?  The 
strain  upon  her  now  involved  not  only  what  natural 
promptings  to  the  truth  she  may  have  possessed,  but 
lier  religious  scruples  as  well.  What  could  she  do ! 
Now  she  sat  in  her  own  little  room ;  in  her  obscure,  mod- 
est little  country  home:  The  Average  piecing  out  the 
sum  of  human  existence.  She  looked  at  her  small  stock 
of  books  on  their  simple  shelf  of  home  make.  Did  they 
supply  her  with  the  sought  for  knowledge?  The  Bible 
stood  out  prominently  from  the  rest.  Did  it  suggest 
aught  to  relieve  the  aching  breast  of  the  tried  and  un- 
happj''  woman?  '^Whatsoev&r  thou  shalt  bind  on 
earth,"  it  kept  saying  to  her,  ^'the  same  shall  he  hound 
in  heaven;  and  whatsoever  thou  shalt  loose  on  earth  the 
same  shall  he  loosed  in  heaven."  In  the  days  when  these 
things  came  to  pass,  she  thought,  the  joy  of  humanity 
and  of  the  world  was  meant;  and  the  saying  was  for 
the  happiness  of  all  creation.  When  there  came  to 
Jerusalem  those  that  said  they  had  seen  the  Son  of 
Man,  and  they  marveled  that  heard,  lo!  ye,  came  He, 
also,  and,  in  the  public  places,  raised  up  all  hearts. 
There  was  rejoicing  and  great  gladness,  for  had  not  He, 

394 


DE'S  SCRUPLES.  395 

that  was  to  loose  all  evil,  pain  and  suffering,  come  among 
them.  With  a  word  she  could  create  great  joy.  The 
church  refused  to  let  her  speak  that  word,  although  the 
church  was  empowered  by  Christ  to  both  hind  and  loose. 

In  the  small  country  town  of  T ,  at  this  time, 

there  stood  a  simple  Catholic  church.  Hidden  away  in 
the  solitude,  silence  and  seeming  sleepy  inactivity  of  its 
shrubbery-embowered  retirement,  the  unassuming  struc- 
ture bore  surely  anything  but  an  air  of  obtrusiveness. 
A  small  paling  fence  surrounded  the  unostentatious 
place  of  worship,  keeping  it,  as  it  were,  from  the  ap- 
proach of  the  idle  and  the  irreverent.  It  boasted  a 
diminutive  and  well  kept  lawn  which,  in  summer,  was 
faithfully  watered  each  day,  by  its  methodical  priest; 
and  was  thriftily  manured  for  the  winter,  when  the  fall 
browned  the  leaves.  It  was  an  attractive  spot,  as  nature 
is  attractive.  A  tree  or  two,  with  its  other  points  of  in- 
terest, lent  the  prospect  an  air  of  symmetry  and  repose, 
offering  a  glimpse  of  something  refreshing  in  the  midst 
of  the  other  striving  and  struggling  pessimism  of  the 
rural  hamlet ;  for,  be  it  understood,  there  exists  in  no 
place  upon  this  mundane  sphere  any  known  spot  where 
the  dry,  grasping  passion  of  daily  greed  and  strife  comes 
not  to  plague  and  torture  the  inventor. 

I  believe  in  a  Divine  Law,  in  the  ever-spirit,  in  all 
things,  and  in  him  whom  Voltaire  admitted  lived,  and 
was  called  Jesus  Christ;  I,  likewise,  believe  in  a  far 
broader  interpretation  of  the  Word,  than  has  yet  been! 
— And  I  believe  in  Love  and  in  Universal  Redemption 
and  Salvation. 

The  religion  of  Christ,  as  functioned  by  the  Catholic 
— the  Roman  Catholic — faith,  has  drawn  its  stoutest  de- 
fenders from  Irish  soil.  The  historic  old  church,  per- 
haps, has,  by  them,  been  alone  perpetuated  to  this  day. 
The  rector  of  the  little  country  house  of  religious  cere- 


396  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

mony,  described  just  before  this,  in  truth  was  a  mild 
mannered  Irishman,  gentle,  to  all  appearances,  and 
filled  with  mother  w^t.  He  had,  by  the  years  he  had  at- 
tentively and  zealously  presided  over  his  parish,  gained 
from  his  simple  and  unpretentious  flock  and  community 
a  degree  of  kindly,  reverent  and  sympathetic  regard. 
True  to  the  legends  of  the  mother  church,  he  was  yet 
known  far  and  wide  among  the  good  people  of  the  par- 
ish and  vicinity  as  declining  always  to  unnecessarily 
obtrude  his  clerical  views,  and  was  known  as  an  un- 
assuming gentleman  who  had  been  educated  to  his  of- 
fice, but  who  could  be  unfailingly  a  good  fellow,  an  hon- 
est fellow  and  an  entertaining  one.  Father  Patrick 
0 'Gorman's  hair  was  streaked  with  gray,  and  his  years, 
numbering  a  quarter  of  a  century  in  his  sacred  calling, 
added  to  the  age  of  twenty-five  when  he  assumed  holy 
orders,  made  him  a  half  century  in  this  world.  His  face 
was  that  of  an  ascetic, — long,  thin,  smoothly  shaven, 
strongly  featured.  He  was  a  tall  man,  in  physical 
stature,  and  of  goodly  bulk.  A  priest,  he  was  little  if  any 
acquainted  with  interests  dominating  aught  save  the 
affairs  of  the  church.  A  reported  miracle  alone  stirred 
his  sublime  enthusiasm;  that  is,  if  that  miracle  formu- 
lated new  reasons  for  the  faithful.  He  pronounced  the 
musty  jargon  and  data  of  an  ancient  time,  with  all  the 
unction  and  confidence  of  one  convinced  of  its  perfect 
application  to  the  existing  conditions  and  needs  of  the 
present.  Thus  he  suggested  a  slightly  antiquated  flavor ; 
and  might  have  been  agreeably  likened  to  a  clerical  Sir 
Roger  de  Coverly.  He  wanted  us  to  think  we  had  no 
right  to  think  except  to  think  to  the  point  of  accepting 
what  he  or  the  church  thought.  And  here  his  amiability 
was  strained  to  the  utmost,  for  he  said  we  would  go  to 
hell  if  we  did  not.  There  will  exist  a  large  number,  be- 
low, if  this  be  true;  and  it  may  afford  a  proper  place 


DE'S  SCRUPLES.  397 

for  the  suggestive  introduction  of  Robert  G.  Ingersoll's 
immortal  view:  "It  were,  of  a  surety,  far  happier  and 
better  to  abide  anywhere  with  your  friends  and  those 
you  love,  than  to  strive  unavailingly  for  paradise  with- 
out them." 

And  it  may  not  be  wholly  irrelevant  to  add,  at  such 
a  point,  that  had  we  for  two  thousand  years  been  per- 
mitted, by  religious  rule,  to  exercise  the  marvelous  pow- 
ers of  the  intellect  as  sedulously  as  we  have  been  pro- 
hibited from  thinking,  we  had  known  as  much  about  the 
fact  and  fate  of  the  soul  as  we  now  know  little. 

"But,  father,  think!  if  I  keep  silent — think! — my 
brother — what  will  become  of  him?"  it  was  De  Brad- 
dock  expostulating  with  Father  0 'Gorman,  in  the  little 
reception  room  of  the  rectory,  in  v/hich  the  priest  and  his 
agonized  and  affrighted  parishioner  sat  in  earnest  talk. 
"My  child,"  solemnly  exhorted  the  holy  father, 
"your  evidence,  though  it  might  undeniably  save  your 
brother,  would,  nevertheless,  be  false  under  your  sacred 
oath  taken  on  the  Holy  Book.  1  grieve  for  your  brother, 
but  you  must  first  think  of  your  own  soul." 

' '  Think  of  myself,  when  those  I  love  are  in  danger — 
in  danger  of  life — in  danger  of — my  God!  cannot  you 
understand  ? ' ' 

"The  church,  daughter,— it  is  the  church  that  calls 
for  your  thought,  before  all  else." 

"And  let  my  own  blood  go  to — to,"  De  shuddered, 
"maybe,  to  the — the — gallows,"  she  whispered,  in  scarce- 
ly audible  accents. 

Brad  Simons  had  not  been  idle,  and  had  finally  suc- 
ceeded in  filling  the  mind  of  the  unsophisticated  country 
girl  with  terrors  dreamed  and  undreamed  of;  until,  ad- 
mitting the  strictly  legal  gravity  of  John  Braddock's 
real    situation,    his    devoted    and    untiring    sister    had 


398  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

wrought  herself  into  a  frenzy  of  apprehension  and  fore- 
boding 

Patrick  O'Gomian  replied  to  his  supplicant's  de- 
spairing protest  and  appeal : 

"The  church  commands  obedience.  Eternal  bliss 
awaits  those  of  the  faithful  who  do  her  bidding;  eternal 
punishment  those  who  do  not." 

"But  he  is  innocent,"  persisted  the  young  woman. 

' '  That  may  be !  it,  at  least,  is  natural  for  you  to 
think  so — to  say  so;  but  you  must  not  violate  your  oath 
— you  must  tell  the  truth,  in  court  or  elsewhere. ' ' 

"But  I  only  secure  justice  —  the  law  will  execute  an 
innocent  man,  if  I  do  not  testify  as  I  say." 

"Even  admitting  such  to  be  so,  what  is  haman 
respect,  to  divine  voice?"  said  the  priest. 

"But  mercy!  my  brother  is  guiltless,  and  were  he 
not,  he  is  still  my  brother, —  mercy!"  cried  the  girl  in 
an  accession  of  despair. 

"Be  it  so !  mercy  will  be  shov/n  you, ' '  said  the  cleri- 
cal coldly,  ' '  but  not  here, ' ' — was  the  holy  father  right, — 
would  mercy  not  be  shown  her  there  ?  ' '  Hereafter,  when, 
through  your  piety  and  holiness,  you  have  found  heaven, 
you  may  hope  for  mercy." 

"Wlien,  through  my  own  selfishness,  I  have  seen 
loved  ones  destroyed;  when,  in  order  to  purchase  my 
own  happiness,  I  have  seen  others  go  to  perdition ;  when 
I  have  —  such,"  broke  off  De,  almost  terrified  at  her 
own  boldness,  but  still  struggling  on, — "such  as  I  Vv^ould 
be,  then,  make  up  heaven's  gathering  —  those  who,  with 
the  means  of  relief,  turn  from  beings  in  distress!  I — " 
the  revolt  of  the  ages  trembled  on  the  young  creature's 
lips. 

"You  —  you  say  this  to  me,"  exclaimed  0 'Gorman, 
in  an  effort  to  check  what  he,  otherwise,  foresaw  to  be 


DE'S  SCRUPLES.  399 

a  revolution, — "me,  the  chosen  minister  of  the  Gospel 
of  Christ!" 

If  she  yielded,  her  brother  was  lost;  if  she  ignored 
the  restraint  placed  upon  her  by  the  strong  ban  of  the 
church,  she  resisted  its  power  in  the  teaching  of  her 
youth  to  consign  her  soul  to  endless  punishment.  De 
Braddock,  for  an  instant,  with  her  straining  eyes, 
searched  the  dark  ecclesiastical  visage  fronting  hers,  in 
a  species  of  lingering  and  jiained  perplexity  that  she 
should,  at  last,  find  herself  in  final  and  hopeless  issue 
with  the  stern,  unrelenting,  uncompromising,  and,  now, 
to  her,  unjust  doctrine  of  lasting  torment  and  the 
authority  of  its  hoary  institution.  It  was,  however,  but 
for  a  brief  moment  that  she  paused,  surveying  in  its 
representative  the  face  of  that  fabric  which,  for  cen- 
turies of  rise  and  fall,  had  subordinated,  dominated  and 
overawed  the  consciousness  of  the  earth.  As  the  heathen 
faith  lashes  and  drives  the  conscience  of  the  fanatic- 
crazed  mother,  so  that  she  casts  the  tender  babe  of  her 
bosom  to  the  crocodile  of  the  River  Ganges  to  feed  the 
gluttonous  and  insatiable  maw  of  the  watery  monster, 
even  so,  in  the  arcana  of  the  universe,  was  it  with  De. 
The  glances  of  priest  and  parishioner  seemed  to  flash 
like  rapiers  thrust  in  quick,  darting  encounter. 

"I  say  it  to  you  or  to  anyone,"  wdth  a  strange  and 
peaceful  calm,  replied  De  Braddock,  "My  brother 
John  is  innocent, —  his  trial  will  prove  it, —  and,  if  he 
were  not,  and  I  could  save  him  by  my  testimony,  whether 
false  or  true,  I  would  do  it.  The  law  of  happiness,  while 
others  pine  and  die,  has  no  meaning  for  me.  Punish- 
ment never  did  other  than  increase  evil  deeds.  Love, 
alone,  is  perfection.  JMy  brother  is  loving  and  gentle. 
You  know  him.  His  love  —  his  devotion  have  led  him, ' ' 
continued  the  woman  and  sister,  with  a  power  of  elo- 
quence that  both  characterized  and  distinguished  her, 


400  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"to  this  pass.  You  are  blind  to  human  life;  you  dwell 
amidst  the  freezing,  ghostly  heiglits  of  divine,  ambitious, 
ehurchly  rule.  Your  sympathies  and  sense  of  human 
justice  are  cold  and  dead;  your  interests  that  of  com- 
manding ecclesiastical  power.  You  forget  that  we  no 
longer  require  the  strong  arm  of  dictation,  but  are  dying 
and  sorrowing  for  love  —  love  without  fear  and  without 
cruelty.  You  deny  us  these  things.  The  thought  of  all 
time  cries  out  against  such  heartlessness  and  injustice." 
She  ceased,  was  silent,  her  moment  of  inspiration  gone 
by. 

"My  child!"  exclaimed  the  representative  of  the 
church. 

"Child!  I  am  no  child,"  cried  De  Braddock. 

0 'Gorman's  manner  experienced  an  instantaneous 
and  striking  change. 

"Everlasting  torment  is  Holy  ]\Iother  Church's  de- 
cree for  heresy  and  sacrilege,"  he  thundered. 

De  rose  quietly,  took  a  step  and  paused  at  the  door. 

"Justice,"  is  all  she  said,  in  low,  even  tones,  and 
passed  out  of  the  presence  of  the  priest. 


CHAPTER  XL. 


TRIAL  OP  JOHN   BRADDOCK. 


The  sudden  return  to  sanity  of  Rachel  Bolers,  of 
course,  excited  some  interest  in  the  neighborhood  where 
it  was  understood  her  loss  of  reason  had  been  due  to 
her  daughter's  early  misfortune.  However,  in  the  popu- 
lar mind,  well  attested  cases  of  a  return  to  rationality 
without  previous  indications  of  recovery,  raised  her 
above  suspicion.  If  she  had  been  partially  sane, —  if 
her  own  wildly  picturesque  conception  that  she  was  fate 
had,  in  apparent  blindness,  moved  her  seemingly  to  take 
advantage  of  the  impunity  with  which  the  harmlessly  ir- 
responsible are  sometimes  permitted  to  go  about,  the 
present  assured  restoration  of  all  her  normal  powers  was 
no  longer  complicated,  on  her  part,  with  even  the  sem- 
blance of  any  irrational  method,  or  purposed  cunning  of 
deception  in  the  community.  Prior  to  the  restoration  of 
her  faculties,  Nance's  mother  was  supposed  to  occupy  a 

small  cottage,  in  the  country  adjacent  to  T .    Here, 

with  occasional  visits  to  a  charitable  and  kindly  neighbor 
woman,  she  had  been  thought  to  live  after  her  reason 
was  broken  by  the  shock  following  her  daughter's  mis- 
fortune and  distressing  earlier  experience.  Nance  had 
always  provided  for  her  comfort,  while  unaware  of  her 
unfortunate  parent's  unhappy  and  ciuestionable  associa- 
tions. 

As  Job  Saunders  had  before  informed  William 
"White,  at  the  Widow  Walmsey's,  Tom  Bolers  was  seri- 
ously ill,  in  jail,  pending  his  own  arraignment,  which 

401 


402  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

was  to  follow  that  of  his  brother  in  law,  for  the  murder 
of  Zeke  Smithin.  There  was  little  hope  entertained  for 
his  recovery;  and  it  looked  as  if  Nance's  brother  might 
go  to  the  great  beyond  with  such  secrets  as  he  possessed 
irrecoverably  locked  in  his  mortal  breast.  Braddocl^'s 
defense  had  about  abandoned  hope  of  further  evidence, 
in  this  direction,  favorable  to  their  client.  Every  effort 
had  been  made  to  procure  a  confession  from  Bolers, 
which,  it  was  generally  believed,  would  have  liberally 
contributed  to  clearing  up  the  mystery  surrounding 
Zeke's  end.  Even  now,  John's  friends  had  those  sta- 
tioned at  Tom's  place  of  confinement  prepared,  at  the 
moment  of  crisis,  to  take  Tom  Bolers'  dying  statement, 
if  the  dying  man  could,  or  could  be  prevailed  upon  to, 
give  one.  And  so  the  hour  of  hazard  for  De's  brother, 
as  well  as  Nance's,  came  on  without  postponement. 

On  the  day  of  John  Braddock's  trial.  Brad  Simons 

was  among  the  earliest  arrivals  in  T .    As  he  passed 

through  the  town,  he  nodded  good  naturedly  to  Bob 
Likkum  and  others  standing  in  chat  beneath  the  long, 
rambling,  old  fashioned  balcony  porch  of  the  hotel ;  and 
paused,  for  a  moment,  under  the  great  trees  fronting 
the  country  tavern.  Rachel  Bolers,  with  a  quick,  pre- 
occupied air,  came  walking  past.  She  saw  Simons  and, 
in  an  abrupt  sort  of  way,  half  halted  as  if  to  speak. 
Simons  perceived  the  action  and  with  a  grave  and  self 
possessed  manner  of  apparently  considerate  respect, 
said, 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you  about  again,  Rachel.  I  hear 
you  have  been  ailing  some." 

Without  seeming  to  pay  any  attention  to  Brad's 
remark,  Rachel  Bolers  asked: 

"Will  John  Braddoek  be  acquitted?"  and  then 
added,  not  waiting  for  a  reply:    "It's  said  he  will  be." 


TRIAL  OF  JOHN  BRADDOCK.  403 

"Why,  yes,  to  speak  frankly,"  returned  Brad.  *'I 
think  he  will  be." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  —  certainly,  mighty  glad  to  hear 
it, —  nach'ly, —  my  da'ter's  husband.  I  understand," 
pursued  Rachel,  with  abrupt  bluntness,  "  'at  ye 're 
makin'  up  to  De  Braddock." 

"Now,  now,  Rachel,"  good  humoredly  remonstrated 
Simons,  "you  must  not  believe  everything  you  hear." 

"But  ye  don't  deny  it,"  persisted  the  woman  peering 
curiously  into  Brad's  face;  "an'  I  see,"  she  added,  with 
a  peculiar  laugh,  "  's  about  true." 

' '  Well, ' '  said  Simons,  with  an  air  of  affected  despair, 
' '  supposin '  I  am  —  what  then  ? ' ' 

"Be  sure  ye  ketch  yer  fish  afore  ye  fry  'em,"  was 
the  other's  unexpected  reply,  with  which  she  passed  un- 
moved on  her  way. 

"What  does  the  creature  mean?"  thought  Simons, 
wdth  a  sudden  quick  thrill  of  instinctive  suspicion  and 
alarm.  He  stood  looking  after  the  woman's  receding  fig- 
ure, long  after  she  had  departed,  and,  at  last,  turned  on 
his  heel,  muttering,  "She  knows  too  much, — has 
Jump — ?  Pshaw! — that  marriage  agreement  with  Mona 
Walker:    He,  certainly,  has  not  let  the  old  rip  have  it." 

*As  was  to  be  expected  on  the  occasion  of  a  case 
involving  such  widespread  interest,  the  courtroom  was 
crowded  upon  the  arraignment  of  John  Braddock,  on 
trial  for  the  alleged  murder  of  Ezekiel  Smithin.  Nance, 
John's  wife,  with  their  child  Nanny,  was,  of  course,  with 
her  husband;  and  Mother  Braddock  and  Uncle  Peter 
occupied  places  of  comfort  and  prominence  by  the  side  of 
their  son.     De  sat  near  Jolm,  and  William  White  was 


♦The  trial  case  for  the  murder  of  Zeke  Smtthin  occupied  several  days. 
The  selection  of  the  jury  alone  consumed  much  time.  The  present 
abridged  narrative  of  the  singular  and  uncommon  proceedings  is  interest- 
ingly adapted,  hy  the  author,  to  the  requirements  of  literary  art  and  natural 
effect.— Ed. 


404  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

with  her.  Esau  the  Braddock  farmboy,  and  Smoky  Bill- 
ings, the  two  having  become  great  friends,  together  with 
Parson  "Woods  and  Bob  Likkum,  made  conspicuous  and 
interested  members  of  the  throng  of  neighbors  and 
acquaintances  present.  Billings  was  observed  to  watch 
"White  closely.  Smoky  wore  the  aspect  of  being  on  the 
lookout  for  sometliing  to  happen, —  he  appeared  to 
scarcely  know  just  what.  A  crowd  of  miscellaneous 
sightseers  had  been  drawn  to  the  courthouse  from  real 
interest  or  passing  curiosity.  The  sheriff  was  there  to 
preserve  order;  and  his  sympathetic  and  encouraging 
hand  had  been  the  first  to  clap  Uncle  Peter  on  the  back, 
the  action  being  accompanied  by  words  of  hope  and 
good  cheer;  and  his  smile  of  kindly  support  had  early 
supplied  a  token  of  encouragement  to  John  Braddock. 
Simons'  heavy  frame  loomed  portentiously  near  John's 
lawyer;  and  the  pale  face  of  Jason  Jump  could  be  seen, 
cold,  set  and  rigid,  in  the  midst  of  the  general  gathering. 
Ann  Mariah  Saunders  had  come  in  town  along  \^dth 
Bob,  and  sat  beside  Likkum  and  Parson  Woods.  Even 
Mona  Walker  was  there ;  and  Job  Saunders,  Widow 
Walmsey  and  the  only  just  returned  Cy — Cy  Saunders, 
—  he  of  the  erstwhile  supposed  recreant  desertion  of  the 
roof  tree  of  the  Saunders'  homestead, — squinted  near- 
sightedly and  cheerfully  from  afar,  in  the  background 
of  the  commodious  and  crowded  courtroom. 

The  trial  was  opened  for  the  state  by  the  prosecut- 
ing attorney,  who  announced  that  this  was  a  case  in 
which  John  Braddock,  the  prisoner  at  the  bar,  stood 
charged  with  the  murder  of  one  Ezekiel  Smithin,  under 
a  true  bill  of  indictment  rendered  by  the  grand  jury; 
that  the  prosecution  was  there  to  see  justice  in  so  flag- 
rant a  crime  fairly  and  impartially  administered,  and 
he  hoped,  to  so  praiseworthy  and  necessary  an  end,  that, 
as  he  did  not  doubt  would  be  the  case,  he  would  have 


TRIAL  OF  JOHN  BRADDOCK.  405 

the  conscientious,  careful  and  faithful  co-operation  of 
the  jury. 

"The  state,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,"  said  the  state's 
attorney,  leveling  an  expressive  forefinger  forcefully 
at  the  twelve  men,  "will  show  that,  prior  to  the  death 
of  the  deceased,  the  prisoner  had  threatened  the  life 
of  the  former;  that  the  defendant  was  animated  by  the 
most  powerful  of  all  motives  for  the  taking  of  life  — 
that  of  revenge.  It  is  not  in  the  province  of  the  law, 
gentlemen  of  the  jury,  to  sympathize  with,  any  more 
than  to  denounce,  those  feelings  which,  it  may  be  made 
to  appear  by  the  advocate  for  the  defense,  either  worth- 
ily or  otherwise  might  have  inspired  John  Braddock  to 
respond  to  an  impulse  to  slay  one  who  had  insulted, 
maybe  most  odiously  and  even  vilely  insulted,  a  member 
of  the  sacred  precincts  of  home  —  one  who,  in  fact,  had 
slurred  the  mother  of  his  child,  the  wife  of  his  bosom, — 
nor  will  it  be  the  province  of  the  law  to  desire,  nor  of 
the  jury  in  this  case  to  permit,  mere  idle  sentimentality 
to  govern  your  deliberations  —  your  verdict.  It  will  be 
the  duty  of  each  and  every  individual  member  of  this 
jury  to  solely  and  carefully  concern  himself  with  the 
existence  or  the  non-existence  of  a  wanton  and  lawless 
taking  of  human  life,  outside  of  the  protection  and  the 
rights  which  the  law  and  the  code  give  to  all  members 
of  society,  alike,  in  the  defense  of  their  lives,  their  prop- 
erty and  natural  obligations.  The  unwritten  law  of 
sentimental  justification  often  affords  the  most  danger- 
ous and  violent  safety  for  bloodthirsty  and  reckless 
natures  to  kill,  with  but  the  heat  of  unreasoning  anger 
to  spur  them  on.  Beware  allowdng  the  appeal  to  such 
emotions,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  to  influence  you.  It 
may  be  all  too  easy  to  find  yourselves,  by  an  adroit  and 
telling  address  to  your  feelings  aroused  by  descriptions 
of  outraged  honor  and  decency,  governed  and  swayed 


406  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

to  an  almost  uncontrollable  extent, —  even  finally  caused, 
in  your  finding,  to  acquit  a  vicious  and  unsafe  criminal. 
My  own  position,  may  it  please  the  court  and  you  gentle- 
men, would  be  one  of  great  and  unfeigned  regret,  were 
I  permitted  to  recognize  a  personal  element  in  the  admin- 
istration of  justice.  The  defendant,  in  this  case,  we  will 
admit,  has  long  held  a  place  of  trust  and  confidence 
in  your  midst.  He  has  grown  up  amongst  those  of  this 
community.  In  this  section  of  the  state,  he  is  now  a 
prosperous,  respected  and  well  to  do  man  of  business. 
He  is  an  exemplary  husband  and  a  kind  and  affectionate 
father, —  a  faithful  and  devoted  son,  brother  and  friend. 
But,  as  much  as  it  may  appear,  that  is  not  enough,  of 
itself,  to  acquit  him  of  crime.  If  he  can  be  shown  to 
have  taken,  without  legal  justification,  the  life  of  a  fel- 
low creature,  the  law  must  take  its  course  and  you  must 
find  him  guilty.  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  I  am  here, 
under  solemn  oath,  with  yourselves,  to  see  that  justice 
and  the  law  be  properly,  faithfully  administered.  I 
could  not,  any  more  than  yourselves,  if  I  would,  escape 
the  solemn  and  trying,  I  may  say  the  even  painful,  duty 
and  responsibility  under  which  this  court,  in  all  of  its 
parts  and  branches,  rests  to  discharge  its  vital  task  of 
obligation  and  of  conscience.  Should  the  law  and  the 
evidence  convict  the  prisoner  at  the  bar,  it  will  be  incum- 
bent upon  you,  gentlemen,  to  so  make  your  verdict; 
■•^hould  the  law  and  the  evidence  acquit  him,  it  will  be 
equally  your  duty  to  set  him  free.  It  remains  for  me  to 
further  state  that  it  will  be  shown,  the  prisoner,  prior 
to  the  killing  of  the  deceased  had  been  financially  much 
embarrassed,  having  been  indebted  in  a  large  sum  of 
money  which,  following  the  death  of  Ezekiel  Smitliin, 
he  at  once  paid  and  paid  with  bills  which  will  be  con- 
clusively proven  to  liave  belonged  at  the  time  of  his 
death,  to  the  deceased  in  this  case." 


!  TRIAL  OF  JOHN  BRADDOCK.  407 

When  the  prosecuting  attorney  had  finished  his  open- 
ing remarks,  it  was  generally  conceded  that  he  had  made 
a  strong  and  unbiased  impression  and  a  statement  dis- 
playing ability  and  force. 

The  state,  deemed  it  suitable,  at  this  point,  to  estab- 
lish the  corpus  delicti,  and  the  finding  of  the  dead  body 
of  Smithin  was  proven.  It  was  shown  that  the  body  of 
the  dead  man  had,  through  causes  as  yet  apparently  un- 
known, been  discovered  buried  in  a  brush  heap  located  in 
0  ditch,  by  the  roadside.  The  head  had  been  crushed, 
seemingly  by  contact  with  some  blunt  instrument.  It 
had  been  understood,  and  testimony  to  that  effect  was 
produced,  that  the  supposedly  murdered  man  vras,  at  the 
time  of  his  death,  returning  home  with  a  large  sum  of 
money  won  at  a  neighboring  gambling  house.  It  was 
developed  that,  when  found,  the  body  had  presumptively 
been  stripped  of  all  valuables.  The  prosecution  then 
called  its  star  witness,  Brad  Simons,  to  the  witness 
Btand. 

Brad's  testimony  was  marked  by  reluctance.  He  was 
manifestly  ill  at  ease  in  the  consciousness  of  De's  pres- 
ence and  looked,  as  his  utterances  from  time  to  time 
seemed  unusually  severe  on  her  brother,  deprecatingly 
in  her  direction.  He  first  testified  to  his  being  present 
at  the  time  of  the  quarrel  between  Zeke  Smithin  and 
John  Braddock,  when  the  latter  had  threatened  Smith- 
in's  life;  and  to  overhearing  the  deadly  and  implacable 
menace  made  use  of  by  John  Braddock.  Upon  being 
questioned  further  by  the  prosecuting  attorney,  he  testi- 
fied to  hearing  others  say  that  the  prisoner  had  repeated 
his  threats  in  their  presence  following  the  quarrel  with 
Smithin. 

This  latter  was  objected  to  by  the  defense  as  being  in 
the  nature  of  hearsay  evidence  and  was  withdrawn,  by 
the  state,  until  later  in  the  trial,  when  such  repeated 


408  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

threats  on  John's  part  were  established  within  the  rules 
of  the  court. 

The  prosecuting  counsel  now  handed  the  witness  a 
slip  of  paper. 

**  Please  state  whether  or  not  you  recognize  that 
paper,"  directed  the  lawyer. 

"I  do,"  answered  the  witness. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  the  prosecuting  officer  for  the 
state. 

"A  note  of  hand  from  John  Braddock  to  myself," 
replied  Brad  Simons. 

"Has  it  been  paid?" 

"It  has, — that  is,  it  was  taken  up  with  the  money, — 
well,  you  see,  with  the  money  taken  from  Smithin;  and 
that  money  is  in  question,"  rejoined  Brad,  alive  to  the 
prospect  of  losing  the  debt  which  the  note  under  con- 
sideration represented. 

"Precisely;  that  is  enough,  we  will  come  to  that 
later,"  said  the  attorney.  "Now,  you  may  be  good 
enough,  Mr.  Simons,  to  state  for  the  benefit  of  the  court 
and  the  jury,  the  circumstances  as  to  the  payment  of  this 
paper:     How  was  the  note  paid?" 

It  was  here  that  Brad  Simons  began  to  detail,  at 
length,  the  history  of  the  settlement  of  John  Braddock 's 
debt  to  the  stockman ;  how  the  latter  was  surprised,  that 
the  debtor  should,  after  having  only  a  short  while  before 
appeared  much  embarrassed  for  ready  money,  suddenly 
and  unexpectedly  ask  to  be  allowed  to  take  up  his  obliga- 
tion. 

"Your  honor,"  exclaimed  the  counsel  for  the  de- 
fense, rising,  "this  is  not  right.  We  are  not  concerned, 
in  the  laws  of  evidence  prevailing  in  this  cr  any  court, 
with  the  witness's  surprise  nor  his  comments." 

The  court  cautioned  the  witness  to  narrate  those 
events  only  which  attended  the  actual  payment  of  the 


TRIAL  OF  JOHN  BRADDOCK.  409 

note,  together  with  but  such  circumstances  as  might  tend 
to  throw  light  upon  the  prisoner's  alleged  connection 
with  the  crime  for  which  he  was  being  tried. 

Simons,  thereupon,  continued  and  related  how  he  had 
discovered,  on  meeting  the  faro  dealer  of  whom  Zeke 
had  won,  that  a  certain  peculiarly  marked  bill  was  one 
in  which  the  dealer  had  paid  Smithin  the  latter 's  win- 
nings. It  was  afterwards  brought  out,  in  the  cross 
examination,  that  Simons  had  deliberately  sought  the 
gambler  for  the  explicit  purpose  of  identifying  the 
marked  money.  This  circumstance,  in  view  of  the  fact 
that  Brad  had  received  the  bill  directly  from  John  Brad- 
dock,  voicing  suspicion  of  John  did  not  have  the  effect 
of  increasing  the  favor  in  which  the  cattleman  was  held 
by  the  sister  of  John  Braddock.  Brad  Simons,  then, 
proceeded  to  say  that  upon  this  important  revelation, 
connected  as  it  was  with  the  fact  that  Zeke  Smithin  had 
been  found  evidently  murdered  and  robbed,  he  had  been 
prompted  to  speak  of  his  discovery;  and  the  prisoner's 
arrest  had  followed.  Again  the  attitude  of  Simons  in 
the  case  appealed  most  unpleasantly  to  De  Braddock, 
who  followed  with  the  utmost  interest  the  stockman's 
testimony.  For  the  first  time,  De  realized  that  Brad  had 
been  the  cause  of  John's  arrest. 

What  Avith  the  irregularities  vnth.  which  the  evidence 
of  Brad  Simons  was  given,  owing  to  his  extreme  and 
unquestionable  desire  to  ayoid  offense  to  De,  and  the 
technical  interruptions  on  the  part  of  the  lawyers,  this 
substantially  closed  Brad's  part  in  the  trial.  He  had 
already  been  shown  the  marked  bill  and  had  identified  it 
as  the  one  with  which  the  younger  Braddock  had,  in 
part,  paid  his  note.  In  effect  and  by  the  natural  and 
unavoidable  as  well  as  legal  force  of  his  recital,  the 
subtle  trader  willingly  or  otherwise  had  involved  John 
Braddock  in  a  situation  of  apparent  and  serious  danger, 


410  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

— one  whicli,  without  the  intervention  of  unseen  aid, 
would  require,  for  the  prisoner's  rescue  all  the  skill  with 
which  Brad,  together  with  others  in  the  case,  had 
struggled  to  establish  John  Braddock's  alibi. 

There  here  followed,  on  the  part  of  other  witnesses 
called  for  the  state,  strong  eorroberative  testimony  to 
the  prisoner's  hostile  animus  toward  Zeke  Smithin,  as 
shown  in  Brad  Simons'  preceding  evidence.  It  ap- 
peared, in  fact,  that  John  had  been  so  incensed  and  an- 
gered by  Smithin 's  conduct  that  he  had  expressed  him- 
self following  Zeke's  visit  to  his  wife,  with  unaccus- 
tomed freedom  and  bitterness ;  denouncing  the  vagabond 
in  deadly  and  unmeasured  terms  and  expressing,  in  un- 
sparing language,  his  feelings  on  the  subject  of  the  com- 
munity's attitude,  in  certain  quarters,  relating  to  his 
wife  Nance  and  their  own  singular  and  unusual  mar- 
riage. 

A  few  minor  and  comparatively  immaterial  points 
being  covered,  after  this,  by  the  state,  the  defense  took 
the  case. 

All  this  time,  William  White  with  an  occasional  look 
in  the  direction  of  Smoky  Billings  and  another  in  that 
of  Benjamin  Grigscomb,  John  Braddock's  lawyer,  sat 
silent  and  absorbed,  following  intently  every  varying 
phase  of  the  famous  and  critical  trial.  Now  and  then 
he  shifted  uneasily  in  his  chair,  as  if  prompted  by  some 
anxious,  secret  and  unspoken  anticipation.  Still  occupy- 
ing a  place  in  the  crowd,  and  with  a  face  as  cold  and 
expressionless  as  unchiseled  marble,  was  Jason  Jump, 

Benjamin  Grigscomb,  bald  headed,  forty  years  of  age, 
in  the  law  passionless,  rose  for  the  defense.  In  his  open- 
ing he  was  brief.  Mr.  Grigscomb  touched  but  little  upon 
those  things  said  by  the  state's  attorney;  came,  at  once, 
to  what  he  esteemed  the  essential  of  his  own  position  in 


TRIAL  OF  JOHN  BRADDOCK.  411 

the  interest  of  his  client,  the  prisoner  now  on  trial — an 
<ilibi. 

"The  defense  will  show,"  proceeded  the  prisoner's 
lawyer,  in  a  plain  and  direct  manner,  "that,  whatever 
else  may  underlie  the  merits  of  my  learned  and  able 
brother's  remarks  (indicating  the  prosecuting  attorney), 
nothing  of  the  state's  contention  bearing  upon  the  al- 
leged killing  of  Ezekiel  Smithin  by  the  hand  of  the  de- 
fendant, John  Braddock,  can  have  any  weight  with  this 
jury,  as  we  will  prove,  beyond  all  doubt,  that  the  pris- 
oner at  the  bar  was  not  present  and  could  not  have  been 
present  at  the  scene  of  the  alleged  murder.  We  are  not 
trying  John  Braddock  for  robbery — the  indictnieut 
reads  "murder."  Unless,  therefore,  it  can  be  proven 
that  the  defendant  had  some  collusion  with  the  murderer 
for  robbery,  I  fail  to  see  where  the  marked  money,  as 
evidence,  has  legally  any  place  in  this  trial.  It  proves 
nothing,  absolutely  nothing,  as  to  who  killed  Zeke 
Smithin.  We  have  no  evidence  to  show  that  the  accused 
man  could  have  inspired  another  to  commit  this  murder 
for  any  purpose,  whatsoever, — indeed,  the  state  makes 
no  attempt  at  any  such  a  demonstration.  You  will  be 
told,  at  the  right  time,  that  the  marked  bill  was  given 
Braddock  in  satisfaction  of  debt;  and  that  he  had  no 
knowledge,  of  any  kind,  of  the  original  source  from 
whence  it  came. 

"I  repeat,  my  client  is  charged  with  murder.  The 
defense  will  show  that  he  could  not  have  committed  or 
been  guilty  of  this  murder,  in  any  way.  There  the  de- 
fense rests.  It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  cordially  in- 
dorse the  uncontested  character  of  the  defendant." 

Mr.  Grigscomb  sat  down  rather  abruptly ;  and,  by  his 
brevity,  it  was  plain  that  the  prosecution  was  taken  by 
surprise.  De  looked  as  if  she  didn't  quite  understand; 
but  remembering  her  many  and  vital  conferences  with 


412  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN.  ' 

Brad  Simons,  and  the  part  assigned  herself  in  the  pass- 
ing tragedy,  she  was  constrained  to  bide  in  patience  till 
further  developments  assisted  in  clearing  up  her  way 
of  promised  relief  at  the  hands  of  her  wily  and  un- 
scrupulous suitor.  So  the  trial  dragged  its  weary  length 
along. 

''Call  Ash  Plummer,"  directed  hawyer  Grigscomb  for 
the  defense,  addressing  himself  to  the  proper  court  offi- 
cial, and  indicating  his  first  witness. 

Ash  Plummer,  a  grizzled,  old  and  honest-looking 
farmer,  his  beardless  face  seamed  and  weather  beaten, 
came  forward, 

"Take  the  stand  please,"  said  Grigscomb. 

The  witness  did  so. 

Brad  Simons  glanced  furtively  at  De;  the  latter 
leaned  forward  simultaneously  with  the  witness  taking 
the  stand,  a  look  of  anxious  expectation  on  her  face. 
Brad  had  experienced  great  difficulty  at  best,  in  explain- 
ing to  the  tried  sister  of  John  Braddock  the  legal  char- 
acter of  his  own  attitude  to  her  brother's  trial.  Now, 
however,  that  the  slow  grinding  of  tlie  machinery,  which 
the  cattleman  had  assisted  so  singularly  in  setting  in 
motion,  had  begun  he  felt  more  at  his  plotting  ease,  and 
serenely  filled  with  a  securer  confidence  in  his  ability  to 
possess  the  object  of  his  crazed  and  desperate  infatua- 
tion, De  Braddock, 

"State  your  name  to  the  court,"  said  Benjamin 
Grigscomb  to  his  first  witness. 

"My  name,"  said  the  old  man  on  the  stand,  "is  Ash 
Plummer," 

"Wliat  is  your  occupation?"  was  the  next  question, 
in  form, 

"Farmer,"  replied  the  witness. 

"Where  do  you  live,  Mr,  Plummer?"  questioned 
John  Braddock 's  lawyer. 


TRIAL  OF  JOHN  BRADDOCK.  413 

"Nigh  about  a  mile  an'  a  half  south  uv  town," 
answered  Plummer. 

"Where  were  you  on  the  night  before  the  day  on 
which  Mr.  Smithin's  dead  body  was  found?" 

"T'  hum'." 

"You  were  at  home.  How  near  is  your  home  to  the 
spot  on  which  the  dead  body  of  Sraithin  was  found,  Mr. 
Plummer?"  inquired  the  leading  lawyer  for  the  defense, 
after  conferring  in  a  low  tone  with  a  colleague  who  was 
assisting  in  the  case. 

"Nayborhood  uv  seventy-five  yard,"  was  the  wit- 
ness's ready  reply. 

Grigscomb's  legal  associate,  here,  leaned  over  and 
spoke  gravely  and  privately  to  White,  as  a  result  of  his 
chief's  recent  consultation  with  himself. 

William  White  and  Smoky  Billings  had  exerted 
themselves,  in  every  way  in  their  power,  to  gain  some 
knowledge  that  might  throw  light  on  the  meaning  of  the 
outlaw  leader's  words  spoken  in  the  old  mill,  affecting 
the  Smithin  case.  Their  efforts,  notwithstanding,  had 
been  fruitless.  It  was,  now,  in  a  last  design  to  get  the 
evidence  of  White  and  Billings  before  the  jury,  for  its 
moral  and  general  effect,  that  William  White  was  seen 
to  be  additionally  interested  with  John's  lawyers  and 
defense. 

"Did  anything  unusual  occur  in  your  neighborhood, 
on  the  night  privous  to  the  finding  of  the  body  of  the 
deceased?"  was  the  next  question  Grigscomb  put  to 
Plummer. 

"Calk 'late  that  'ere  wtiz  uhbout  whut  happened?" 
sociably  replied  Ash. 

' '  Something  unusual  happened.  Will  you  kindly  tell 
the  jury  what  took  place,  on  the  night  before  the  discov- 
ery  of   this   body   occurred,   in   your   neighborhood, — 


414  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

whether  you  heard  any  noise,  in  the  road,  as  of  violence 
or  the  like  being  committed?" 

"I  object  to  the  question  as  tending  to  lead  the  wit- 
ness, ' '  interposed  the  prosecuting  attorney. 

"Please  change  the  form  of  your  question,"  consid- 
erately directed  the  court,  addressing  itself  to  the  law- 
yer for  the  defense. 

"Very  well,  your  honor,"  replied  Grigscomb  affably. 
'What  occurred  in  your  neighborhood,  on  the  night  be- 
fore the  finding  of  the  body  of  the  deceased?"  inquired 
the  la^vj^er,  once  more  speaking  to  the  witness. 

"I  heerd,  a  leet'le  north  uv  me,  a  hollerin',  an'  I 
went  out  ter  see  what  wuz  the  matter.  When  I  git  out 
inter  th'  road  the  hollerin'  'd  stopped,  so  I  went  on  up 
in  th'  pertikler  d 'recti on  where  't  sounded,  an'  at  fu'st 
couldn't  see  nothin',  't  all;  but  I  looked  clost  and  seen 
signs  where  't  'peared  'sif  a  lot  uv  scufflin'  'd  gone  on  in 
the  road." 

"Was  this  near  the  point  where  the  body  was 
found?"  inquired  John's  lawyer  glancing  at  the  jury, 
most  of  whom  were  countrymen  and  farmers  from  the 
neighboring  lands. 

' '  Jes '  at  the  side  uv  the  ditch  where  'twas  af  'erwards 
got  out,  by  the  fellers,  nex'  day,"  replied  Plummer 
promptly. 

"Wliat  else  did  3'ou  see?" 

"Didn't  see  nothin'  else  spechul  jes'  then,  'cept  'at 
they  vmz  a  bay  horse  a-standin'  in  th'  road,  an'  it  trotted 
off  w'en  I  kum  up." 

* '  Did  you  hear  anything  more  ? ' ' 

"Heerd  another  hoss  a-gallopin'  like  all  possessed 
down  the  road." 

Grigscomb  suddenly  beckoned  White,  who  came 
quickly  over  to  the  side  of  the  lawyer.  The  latter,  his 
legal  associate  and  the  literary  man  appeared  to  consider 


TRIAL  OF  JOHN  BRADDOCK.  415 

briefly  for  a  moment ;  then  Grigscomb,  with  a  composed 
face,  turned  back  to  the  waiting  witness.  White  re- 
turned to  his  accustomed  seat  by  the  side  of  De,  followed 
by  the  jealous,  malevolent  look  of  Brad  Simons. 

"You  say,  Mr.  Plummer,  you  did  not  see  anything 
further,  especially,  just  then.  What  else  did  you  see, 
later?" 

"I  seen  some  feller  a-scratchin'  off  like  the  mischief 
wuz  after  'im — a-runnin',  you  un'erstan',  off  through 
th'tiel's." 

"Did  you  make  any  effort  to  stop  him?"  queried 
Grigscomb. 

"Hollered — did,  I  did,  but  he  kep'  a-goin'," 
answered  the  witness. 

"You  did  not  catch  up  with  the  party  who  was  seen 
running  ? ' ' 

"No,  sir." 

"Did  you  see  the  body  of  anyone  who  might  have 
been  injured,  or  otherwise  affected  by  assault,  attack  or 
violence  of  any  kind  ? ' ' 

"No,  sir." 

"By  the  way,  Mr.  Plummer,"  further  questioned  the 
lawyer  for  the  defense,  "did  you  have  a  light  with 
you?" 

"Keeried  a  lantern,"  replied  Plummer. 

"Was  the  night  very  dark?" 

"Couldn't  see  much  wethout  a  lantern,"  returned 
the  old  man. 

"Did  you  see  the  body  of  Smithin?"  asked  the  law- 
yer. 

"No,  sir." 

"Well,  now,  Mr.  Plummer,  suppose  there  had  been 
trouble  somewhere,  at  some  such  a  place  as  this  point  in 
the  road  we  are  discussing;  and  suppose  there  had  been 
the  form  of  a  man  left  dead  at  that  point ;  and  suppose 


416  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

the  circumstances  of  the  finding,  afterwards,  of  that 
dead  body  were  similar  to  those  attending  the  discovery 
of  the  body  of  the  deceased  in  this  case,  what  would 
have  prevented  you  in  your  position,  and  carrying  a 
lighted  lantern,  from  seeing  the  body  ? ' ' 

Answering  the  lawyer's  hypothetical  question,  the 
witness  said: 

"A  body  placed  same  ez  Smithin's  wuz  would  uv 
b'en  hid  by  th'  bresh,  which  somep'n'  had  throw 'd  thuh 
body  inter,  in  ther  ditch." 

"So  the  brush  would  have  hidden  any  object  so  de- 
scribed from  your  notice?" 
"Yes,  sir." 

"What  time  did  this  disturbance,  we  have  just  been 
speaking  of,  occur?"  asked  John's  lawyer. 

"  'T\\Tiz  jes'  'leven  o'clock,"  was  the  unhesitating 
reply. 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"  ' 'At's  whut  th'  clock  to  my  house  said,  an'  it's 
mos'  giner'ly  right,"  replied  the  farmer. 

"That  wall  be  all,  I  believe,  Mr.  Plummer.  I  mean," 
added  John  Braddoek's  attorney  in  explanation,  as  he 
perceived  the  witness  hesitate,  "that  you  can  step 
down,  unless,"  and  he  turned  to  the  prosecuting  attor- 
ney, "you  wish  to  question  him." 

Upon  cross  examination  it  was  plain  that  Ash  Plum- 
mer had  sworn  to  the  truth. 

The  next  witness  called  by  the  defense  was  Doctor 
Swathburn,  old  now,  having  attended  De  Braddoek's 
first  appearance  in  the  world's  trial  of  life. 

The  trusted  and  venerable  old  doctor  plucked  the 
tangles  out  of  his  flowing  white  beard  and  viewed  those 
about  him  in  the  courtroom,  with  mild  interest.  To  many 
of  them,  as  in  the  case  of  De,  he  had  extended  the  intro- 
ductory hand  at  birth.    Like  with  the  knowing  and  the 


TRIAL  OF  JOHN  BRADDOCK.  417 

old,  he  had  obtained  somewhere  an  inkling  of  the  way 
things  stood  between  John's  sister  and  Brad  Simons;  al- 
tliough  unaware  of  anything  suggesting  the  employment, 
by  them,  of  means  outside  of  the  written  law  for  the  suc- 
cor of  her  brother.  He  fixed  a  kindly  and  discerning 
gaze  upon  De's  countenance  of  absorbed  interest. 

"Doctor,"  said  Grigscomb,  following  upon  the  for- 
malities of  installing  the  witness,  you  examined  the  de- 
ceased in  this  case,  I  believe,  after  the  discovery  of  the 
dead  body  was  made,  did  you  not  ? ' ' 

"I  did,"  replied  the  physician. 

"How  soon  after  the  body  was  found  did  you  mjike 
your  examination,  doctor?" 

"Immediately." 

"About  wliat  hour  of  the  day  was  this?" 

"Ten  or  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning." 

"How  long,  in  your  opinion  had  the  man  been 
dead?" 

"A  number  of  hours." 

* '  A  number,  eh  ?     Five  or  twelve — or 1 

"Might  have  been  twelve  hours,"  replied  Swathbum. 

"Might  have  been?"  queried  the  defense. 

"Yes,  sir, — all  of  that,"  repeated  the  doctor,  posi- 
tively. 

Again  Griscomb  leaned  over  and  conferred  with  his 
colleague. 

* '  That  will  be  all,  doctor, ' '  he  then  announced. 

This  was  all  the  examination  to  which  Dr.  Swathbum 
was  put  by  the  defense  which  had  now  established,  by 
the  strongest  possible  inference,  the  time  of  the  killing 
to  have  been  at  eleven  o'clock  on  the  night  prior  to  the 
finding  of  Zeke  Smithin's  dead  body;  Ash  Plummer's 
evidence,  together  with  that  of  Swathburn,  strongly 
tending  to  fix  the  occurrence  of  the  catastrophe  as  hav- 
ing transpired  on   the   night   before   Zeke's   body   was 


418  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

found.  It  only  remained  for  the  defense  to  prove  John 
Braddock's  whereabouts  at  a  point  other  than  at  that  of 
the  presumed  murder. 

The  prosecution  eliciting  nothing  of  further  interest, 
from  Doctor  Swathburn,  the  old  physician  was  dis- 
missed. 

There  was  a  stir  in  the  crowded  courtroom  when 
Delia  Braddock,  the  sister  of  the  prisoner,  was  put  on 
the  witness  stand.  Brad  Simons  had  had  his  way. 
"Someone  must  be  found  to  testify  to  seeing  John  in 
front  of  the  hotel,"  where  he  claimed  to  have  been  on 
the  night  of  the  murder.  Someone  had  been  found.  She 
was  that  "someone,"  although  she  had  not  seen  him. 
They  had  been  unable  to  find  anyone  who  had.  Simons 
had  finally  gained  her  confidence,  showed  her  the  way, 
coaxed,  cajoled,  persuaded.  She  had  yielded.  And  she 
had  placed  herself,  as  she  accepted  her  fate,  forever  in 
his  power.  She  was  pale  and  composed,  showing  ap- 
parently but  the  strain  natural  to  one  in  her  trying  and 
distressing  position. 

"Miss  Braddock,"  said  Grigscomb  soothingly,  "will 
you  please  state  to  the  jury  where  you  were,  on  the  night 
preceding  the  morning  on  which  the  dead  body  of  Ezek- 
iel  Smithin  was  found  ? ' ' 

"I  spent  the  night  here  in  town,"  was  the  response. 

"You  spent  the  night  here  in  town.  Will  you  tell 
the  jury,  just  in  your  own  way,  what  happened  during 
that  night  1 ' '  interrogated  the  lawyer  kindly. 

"My  teacher — my  old  teacher  Lliss  Primvale  was 
very  ill,  and  I  had  come  into  town  from  the  farm  to  be 
with  her  for  the  night.  Along  in  the  evening  it  became 
apparent  that  she  would  need  a  fresh  supply  of  medi- 
cines, and  I  went  to  get  it  for  her.  I  went  to  the  drug 
store  and  wakened  Mr.  Block,  the  proprietor,  and  he 
came  dov/n  and  let  me  in." 


TRIAL  OF  JOHN  BRADDOCK.  419 

"Your  honor,"  said  the  counsel  for  the  state,  rising 
in  his  place,  "I  really  regret  interrupting  the  witness, 
but  it  is  my  duty  to  ask  what  has  all  tliis  to  do  with  the 
case?" 

"May  it  please  the  court,"  rejoined  Grigscomb 
quickly  on  his  feet,  with  the  tips  of  his  fingers  resting 
upon  the  table  in  front  of  him,  "it  is  essential  to  show 
the  movements  of  Miss  Braddock,  on  the  night  in  ques- 
tion, in  order  to  make  clear  to  the  court  and  jury  the 
manner  in  which  she  saw  her  brother." 

"The  court  will  allow  the  witness  to  proceed,"  ruled 
the  bench. 

"What  time,"  said  ]\Ir.  Grigscomb  returning  to  De, 
"was  it,  Miss  Braddock,  when  you  reached  the  drug 
store?" 

"About  half  past  ten,  lacking  a  minute  or  two." 

■  •  Are  you  positive  ? ' ' 

"Oh,  yes,"  responded  De,  with  quiet  assurance. 

"How  do  you  know?"  asked  the  attorney  for  the 
defense. 

"The  requirements  of  the  sick  room,  in  Miss  Prim- 
vale's  case,  made  it  necessary  to  note  the  time  in  order 
to  properly  administer  her  medicine,"  replied  the  wit- 
ness. 

"What  time  was  it  when  you  left  the  store?" 

"Nearly  eleven." 

"What  did  you  do,  when  you  left  the  store?" 

"I  started  directly  home,  or  rather  to  ]\Iiss  Prim- 
vale's." 

"The  roads  are  lonely,"  the  assault  upon  De  was  yet 
remembered;  "had  you  no  company  for  protection?" 
asked  counsel  considerately. 

"I  was  alone.  Miss  Primvale  insisted  upon  my  carry- 
ing a  weapon — a  pistol,  which  she  always  keeps  in  her 
house. ' ' 


420  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

* '  What  did  you  do,  after  you  started  for  the  house  of 
Miss  Primvale  ? ' ' 

De  struggled,  for  a  moment  apparently  with  her  feel- 
ings. Would  she  break  down?  thought  the  lawyer.  It 
was  evident  to  all  that  the  nervous  strain,  under  which 
the  young  woman  was  laboring  as  the  principle  witness 
for  her  brother's  life,  would  make  it  a  grave  question 
whether  or  not  she  could  proceed.  The  truth  is,  up  to 
this  point  in  her  evidence  in  the  trial  De  Braddock  had 
testified  to  only  that  which  had  actually  transpired;  it 
was  now  necessary  to  swear  she  had  seen  John,  at  eleven 
o'clock,  in  front  of  the  hotel,  which  she  had  not  done. 
The  girl  became  gradually  more  composed.  She  answered 
the  last  question  addressed  to  her,  by  the  counsel  for  the 
defense,  and  the  trial  came  to  its  abrupt — its  remarkable 
and  unexpected  conclusion. 

"I  hastened  to  get  back  to  Miss  Primvale,"  went  on 
De;  "and  was  just  crossing  the  street  and  approaching 
the  Travers  House,  when  I  saw  my  brother  John  stand- 
ing in  front  of  the  hotel.'* 

— In  her  pure  and  exalted  mood  of  self-sacrifice,  love 
and  devotion  it  is  really  a  grave  and  serious  question 
whether,  under  the  spell  of  a  strange,  spiritual  and  hyp- 
notic consciousness,  De  Braddock  was  not  convinced  that 
she  actually  saw, — at  the  time  of  her  testimony,  had  sub- 
conscious knowledge  of  John's  presence  in  front  of  the 
hotel. — They  say,  such  things  are  possible,  and,  for  one, 
I  believe  they  are.  At  all  events  the  weighty  and  im- 
portant incident  has  been  most  faithfully  given. 

Tliere  was  a  sudden  commotion  in  the  courtroom,  and 
a  man  from  without  was  seen  hurriedly  making  his  way 
through  the  crowded  attendance  The  case  was  sus- 
pended, for  a  moment,  when  the  clerk  of  the  court,  after 
a  hasty  and  earnest  explanation  from  the  new  arrival, 
whispered  something  to  the  judge.    The  latter  beckoned 


TRIAL  OF  JOHN  BRADDOCK.  421 

the  attorneys  for  the  defense  and  commonwealth  to  the 
bench.  There  was  a  brief  conference  marked  by  deep  at- 
tention, on  the  part  of  counsel;  and,  turning  to  those 
present,  his  honor  announced  that,  in  view  of  some  new 
and  important  developments,  the  court  would  take  a  re- 
cess. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 


ACQUITTAL, 

"What  do  ye  hear?"  questioned  one  countryman  of 
another,  as  the  two,  in  from  their  farms,  stood  gawking 
about  the  public  square  of  T ,  at  a  late  hour  in  the  af- 
ternoon of  the  day  on  which  De's  testimony  had  been 
interrupted  in  so  sudden  and  unlocked  for  a  manner; 
"any  news?  How's  Hirara  Braddock,  Peter's  Kaintucky 
kin,  a-gittin '  ? " 

"Wy  got  right  spry,  now,"  replied  the  second 
countryman. 

"That  so,— he'll  git  well,  then?"  returned  the  first 
countryman. 

"Yes,  reckon,"  said  the  second  countryman,  and  ac- 
curately hit  a  pebble  in  the  roadway  with  a  stream  of  to- 
bacco juice,  shot  with  unerring  nicety  at  the  stone. 

The  chewer  worked  the  contents  of  his  jaws  medita- 
tively, for  a  moment,  and  spoke. 

"Heerd  about  whut  he  said?"  queried  the  second 
countryman  looking  carefully  around  for  another  peb- 
ble. 

"Huh, — "  interrogated  the  first  countryman — 
' '  heerd, — what — who  said  ? ' ' 

"Hiram,"  replied  the  second  countryman. 

' '  Hain  't  heerd  nuthin ' —  Hiram  nur  nobuddy  's  said, 
Hiram  bin  a-talkin'?"  replied  number  one. 

"Found  out  how  he  got  hurted,"  said  the  second 
countryman, 

422 


ACQUITTAL.  423 

"Wlio — how  Hiram  got  hurted?"  asked  the  first 
countryman. 

"Yep,"  indifferently  rejoined  the  second  country- 
man. 

"How?"  asked  the  first  countryman. 

*' Hiram,"  replied  number  two,  "jus'  kum  ter  'is 
senses,  an'  tells  'at  it  wuz  dark,  an'  him  ridin'  'cross 
kentry  on  biz'ness,  an'  Hiram,  ackcerdental,  rid'  into 
someun',  which  it  wuz  Zeke  Smithin,  on  ther  Wabash 
Road,  while  Hiram  wuz  a-comin'  frum  the  East  Crossin' 
inter  thuh  pike;  an'  they  both  went  down;  and,  arter 
that,  Hiram,  whose  head  wuz  hurted,  must  'a'  wandered 
around  crazy-like." 

"That  'ere  night  Zeke  Smithin  wnz  kilt?"  said  the 
first  countryman. 

"Same  night,"  was  the  other's  reply. 

"An'  Hiram  wuz  th'  innercent  cause  o'  Zeke's 
death?"  said  countryman  number  one,  with  quick  per- 
ception. 

"That's  it,"  answered  the  second  countryman. 

Another  silence  followed,  during  which  the  leading 
spirit  in  this  curbstone  trial  found  and  plentifully  be- 
sprinkled several  pebbles.  After  chewing  for  a  spell  of 
thouglitful  silence,  the  irrigator  of  the  small  stones  about 
once  more  observed : 

"Did  ye  hear?" 

"Hear  what?  dad  bing  it!"  replied  the  first  country- 
man, with  a  show  of  some  irritation.  "Wat  a  feller  ye 
are, — hear  w  'at — w  'y  don 't  ye  say  ? ' ' 

The  second  countryman  immovably  spat  and  chewed 
and  said, 

"Confessin  of  Tom  Bolers,  afore  he  died  of  that  'air 
fever,  in  the  jail." 

"No,"  eagerly  said  the  first  countryman,  forgetting 


424  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

his  impatience  of  a  moment  before  in  this  savory  bit  of 
news,— "did  he?" 

' '  Confess  ?  Yep  ;  an '  he  sez  somethin '  thet  'u  'd  seem 
ter  go  ter  kerroberatin '  Hiram,  an'  he'p  clear  up  the  hull 
thing:  Tom,  snookin'  aroun',  sez  'at  he  foun'  Zeke," 
continued  the  second  countryman,  "a-layin'  dead,  along 
about  midnight,  an'  simply  tuk  ther  money  off'n  the 
kurps,"  (it  has  been  deterrnined  that  the  rustic  nar- 
rator meant  "corpse"),  "an' — " 

"Sa}^,"  said  a  third  countryman,  coming  up  at  that 
instant,  "John  Braddock's  bin  acquitted." 

Zeke  Smithin  was  thus  decided  to  have  been  killed 
by  being  violently  throv.n  from  his  horse  as  a  result  of 
a  collision,  in  the  dark,  with  Hiram  Braddock. 

Tom  Bolers,  at  the  eleventh  hour,  had  made  a  con- 
fession before  he  died,  which  opportunely  arrived  to  add 
its  convincing  weight  to  John  Braddock's  triumph. 

And  so  the  case,  with  the  shadows  still  pursuing, 
passed  into  history. 

There  was  a  general  buzz  of  satisfaction  over  the  re- 
sult; and  John  held  a  reception,  shaking  hands  with 
everj^body.  De  was  happy,  or,  at  least,  she  thought  she 
was.  She  had  expected  it.  John  was  at  liberty;  and  it 
was  destiny.  Brad's  claim  upon  her  would  have  to  be 
met.  It  never  occurred  to  her  to  qualify  Simons'  de- 
mands by  the  unlocked  for  results  of  the  trial.  She  had 
expected  to  abide,  in  any  event,  by  the  consequences  of 
her  sacrifice.  Brad  had  shown  her  the  way.  Regrets 
had  no  place  for  her;  and  she  stifled  them  and  put  them 
away,  if  they  seemed  to  cry  out  for  recognition. 

But  we  warrant,  there  will  be  better  and  happier 
days ;  for  here  is  Bob  Likkum  and  Ann  ]\Iariah,  and, 
wonder  of  wonders !  Job,  with  a  hat  of  the  latest  block 
upon  his  head,  and  the  widow  on  his  arm,  and  Likkum 
not  sajdng  a  word.     And  Bob  is  talking  earnestly  and 


ACQUITTAL.  425 

confidentially  with  a  grizzled,  old,  miner-looking  fellow, 
who  has  a  squint  of  prime  good  nature  in  his  eye,  and 
calling  him  Cy — and  all  understand  that  Cy  Saunders 
has  come  back;  and  has  come  back  as  rich  as  California 
and  all  the  other  gold  mines  of  the  far  west  can  make 
him,  although  he  did  come  near  getting  drowned  in  try- 
ing to  reach  home  through  the  storm,  and  surprise  his 
people ! 

And  backing  up  these  cheering  scenes  is  a  square- 
rigged  vessel,  by  name  of  Smoky — Smoky  Billings;  and 
another  staunch  craft,  by  name  of  White — William 
White. 

The  scene  is  again  in  front  of  the  country  tavern. 

White  speaks  to  Simons.  Simons  returns  the  saluta- 
tion. 

Eachel  Bolers  approaches  the  two  men, 

"Ye 're  onlucky,  William,"  says  the  woman,  of  a 
naturally  strange  and  grotesque  humor  at  best,  and  ad- 
dressing White.  "I  hear  'at  Brad  '11  git  De,  after  all," 
and  she  laughs,  oddly. 

"Is  that  so,  Rachel?"  says  William  White  pleasantly, 
and  glancing  quizzically  into  Simons'  face. 

De  has  just  left  Uncle  Peter,  who  remains  nearby. 
There  is,  on  De's  part,  a  native,  trusting,  childlike  confi- 
dence in  William  White,  that,  after  all  is  said  and  done, 
can  never  lose  its  being,  and  she  pauses  trustfully  at 
William's  side. 

At  a  lurking  suggestion  in  the  woman's  tones,  con- 
veying an  indefinable  menace  to  himself.  Brad  Simons 
gives  a  start. 

"Who's  been  saying  such  things?"  quickly  says  the 
girl,  her  face  coloring  and  clouding,  as  she  darts  a  sharp 
glance  at  Simons.  De  has  breathed  "such  things"  to  no 
living  soul,  herself,  save  to  the  brooding  cattleman  stand- 
ing at  her  side. 


426  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

''First  ketch  yer  fish,  I  sez,  again,  Brad,"  says 
Rachel,  innocently,  and  turning,  with  no  other  explana- 
tion, away,  ' '  afore  ye  fry  'em, ' '  and  the  woman,  without 
further  remark,  is  gone. 

"What  did  this  continued  suggestion  of  Rachel  Bolers, 
that  there  was  something  doubtful  in  his  hold  on  De 
Braddock,  mean?  in  alarmed  suspicion  again  thought 
Brad  Simons.  With  long  knowledge  of  Rachel's  secret 
connection  with  the  outlaws,  and  his  ovm.  information 
concerning  the  bank-stolen  marriage  agreement  which  he 
had  made  with  Mona  Walker,  Simons'  fears  were  thor- 
oughly aroused  by  this  reiteration,  on  the  part  of  the 
singular  woman,  of  her  warning.  Should  it  be  that  there 
was  on  foot  a  design  to  invalidate  or  prejudice  to  his  de- 
feat his  intention  to  wed  De  Braddock,  by,  at  the  last 
moment,  springing  his  promise  to  marry  his  housekeeper 
upon  him,  he  saw,  at  once,  they  had  him  trapped — 
trapped !  It  must  not  be — it  drove  him  Avild  to  think  of 
losing  her.  It  must  not  be !  He  must  do  something — 
take  instant  steps  to  prevent  the  destruction  of  his  plans, 
his  hopes.  He  could  denounce  the  marriage  agreement 
as  a  forgery, — but,  no,  that  might  not  succeed. 

He  turned  to  De. 

"You,"  in  his  doubt  and  uncertainty,  he  was  halting 
in  his  usual  confident,  successful  and  overbearing  ad- 
dress to  her  defenses,  thus  giving  her  subsequently  the 
opportunity  to  unconsciously  drive  him  hopelessly  into 
the  meshes  of  his  own  toils :  De 's  ensuing  manner  was 
not  influenced  by  any  realization  of  Simons'  villainy, 
whatever, — in  fact,  her  best  weapon  was  really  her  en-. 

tire  innocence  of  any  wrong  motives "You," 

again  began  the  temporarily  baffled  schemer  endeavoring 
to  smile  agreeably, — ' '  you  are  happy  in  your  brother 's 
release,  Miss  De.  May,"  he  more  boldly  and  assertively 
inquired, — "may  I  have  the  pleasure  of  private  con- 


ACQUITTAL.  427 

gratulations  ? "  it  had  reached  the  point  with  him  of 
settlement,  at  any  cost,  of  his  unpleasant  and  disturbing 
doubts. 

He  had  lost  his  sense  and  power  of  supreme  mastery, 
however,  and  De  Braddock,  given  option,  looked  coldly 
at  the  man.  Uninspired  by  any  purpose  of  breaking 
wdth  Brad ;  but,  still  offended  and  deeply  so  in  her  sense 
of  maidenly  delicacy  at  what  she  construed  to  be  Simons' 
betrayal  of  their  sacred  and  sentimental  understanding, 
she  replied,  with  studied  coldness  and  meaning : 

"Another  time,  Mr.  Simons,  and  in  better  faith,  I 
shall  hope  to  prove  worthier  of  such  kindness." 

"But,  De,"  impulsively  and  explosively  broke  in  the 
stockman  when,  none  too  well  pleased  in  the  company 
of  Simons  at  any  time,  De  started  with  William  White 
to  join  her  father. 

Brad  Simons  felt  instinctively  that  he  was  losing  her. 
Rage  possessed  him.  He  swore  beneath  his  breath.  He 
impotently  gnashed  his  teeth  at  thought  of  what,  to  his 
excited  and  inflamed  suspicions,  was  the  certain  con- 
firmation of  his  worst  apprehensions. 

"I'll  have  her,"  he  ground  out  in  deadly  earnest, 
"if  it  takes  life,  farm  and  all." 

Simons  wheeled,  as  if  seeking  an  instrument  to  carry 
out  his  designs.  The  occupants  of  the  courtroom  were 
scattering  after  the  trial  of  Braddock  had  been  con- 
cluded, and  Jason  Jump  stood  not  far  off.  The  latter 
revolutionary  was  just  preparing  to  move  away,  when 
Brad's  roving  glance  perceived  him.  Simons  had  not 
met  Jump  since  the  day  in  town,  when  the  cattleman  had 
angrily  withdrawn  from  the  company  of  his  sinister  out- 
law acquaintance.  Brad  Simons  intercepted  the  out- 
law. 

"De,"  said  William,  as  the  two  moved  away  together, 


428  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

leaving  Simons  alone,  "I  am  forced  to  speak  plainly: 
Brad  Simons  is  not  a  good  man." 

De  was  silent.  She  could  not,  for  some  reason  con- 
nected with  an  instinctive  recognition  of  Simons'  class, 
utter  a  syllable  in  the  defense  of  one  to  whom  she  had 
tacitly  pledged  herself  as  the  price  of  John's  redemption 
and  release. 

"I  have,  lately,  learned  enough,"  went  on  her  com- 
panion, in  a  grave  voice,  "without  in  the  beginning 
knowing  aught  of  what  you  may  have  deemed  best  to 
agree  to  with  Simons,  to  think  that  you  have  been  in- 
duced to  listen  to  some  proposition  from  this  man,  in 
your  brother's  case."  She  made  a  movement.  "You 
need  not  speak,"  said  Wliite  quickly,  "but  will  you  de- 
lay committing  yourself  irrevocably,"  continued  he, 
"until,  at  least,  you  have  heard  further  from  me?" 

And  William  Wliite  could  not,  at  the  moment,  bring 
himself  to  tell  her  what  the  operations  of  Smoky  Bill- 
ings and  himself  had  resulted  in.  He  knew  that  the 
character  of  the  information  he  possessed  against  Simons 
was  such  as  no  girl,  occupying  the  position  which  De 
occupied,  could,  for  a  moment,  allow  to  pass  unrebuked. 
He  had  intended  to  take  Peter  Braddock  and  De's 
mother  into  his  confidence;  but,  by  reasons  of  one  and 
another  of  the  absorbing  affairs  of  the  past  few  days, 
had,  as  yet,  been  prevented  from  doing  so. 

De  was  content  to  promise  the  respite  asked;  and 
William,  reassured,  left  her  side;  and,  in  a  happier 
frame  of  mind  than  he  had  enjoyed  for  many  days,  saw 
her  drive  away  homeward  in  the  red  wagon  with  her 
father  and  mother. 

"Jump,"  said  Simons,  nervously  advancing  upon  the 
leader  of  the  desperadoes  whom,  but  a  moment  before 
the  promise  to  William  White  which  De  had  just  given, 


ACQUITTAL.  429 

Brad  had  accosted,  "have  you  tliat  marriage  agreement, 
still?" 

"No,"  replied  the  robber.  "It's  disappeared.  Don't 
know  how,"  and  he  looked  curiously  and  intently  at  Si- 
mons, while  evidently  wondering  vainly  what  had  so  soon 
changed  the  latter 's  previous  unfriendly  disposition  to- 
wards himself.  With  a  peculiar  maliciousness  he  added : 
"Gone;  some  of  Rachel  Bolers'  crazy  tantrums,  reckon." 

In  this  last  shot,  Jump,  it  is  conjectured  from  sub- 
sequent events,  had  tipped  his  shaft  with  a  secret  and 
lasting  appreciation  he  had  conceived  of  Rachel's  deadly 
animus  to  Sim.ons — an  appreciation  obtained  in  his  char- 
acter of  the  outlaw  chieftain — together  with  a  shrewd 
knowledge  that  the  woman,  in  some  w^ay  possibly  known 
to  himself  alone,  had  obtained  from  the  robbers  possess- 
ion of  the  document  so  disastrous  to  Simons'  present 
peace  of  mind.  He,  likewise,  had  no  difficulty  in  sur- 
mising that  the  use  she  would  make  of  the  paper  would 
be  to  thwart  the  cattleman's  designs  upon  De  Braddock, 
if  it  were  possibly  in  the  power  of  Nance's  implacable 
mother  to  do  so.  Such  a  course  would  gratify  his  own 
spite  against  Brad  Simons  for  refusing  to  purchase  the 
implicating  marriage  agreement  with  Mona  Walker 
from  the  robber  leader;  and  the  same  action,  doubtless, 
in  the  end,  would  be  expected  to  protect  Mona,  whom 
Jason  Jump  had  informed  Simons  he  meant  to  defend. 

The  desperate  free-lance  chieftain,  however,  had  ex- 
ploded a  bomb  which  he  could  hardly  have  anticipated 
would  wreak  such  havoc  in  its  fiery  results. 

It  was  the  last  straw  on  the  back  of  Simons'  af- 
frighted moral  camel.  Rachel  Bolers'  repeated  warn- 
ings struck  the  base  trickster  and  villain  with  full  and 
fatal  force.  His  naturally  furious  and  uncertain  tem- 
per was  too  much  for  him;  and,  remembering  De's  re- 
cent studied  coldness,  he  broke  into  a  sudden  fury  of 


430  "THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

revilings  and  accusations  of  her  too  coarse  or,  in  their  all 
but  insane  confusion,  too  wild  and  disordered  to  repeat ; 
unbridled  jealousy,  now  mounting  to  a  frenzy,  drove  him 
to  hurl  unspeakable  epithets  at  the  literary  wooer  of  De, 
vdth  whom  he  had  just  seen  the  object  of  his  insane  de- 
sires depart. 

Jump,  with  the  pale,  chilled,  expressionless  face  of  a 
gambler,  in  risks,  at  first  listened,  in  silence,  to  his  com- 
panion's ungovernable  ravings. 

"What  is  it,  Brad?"  finally  asked  Jump,  quietly 

"If  I    thought,"    screamed    the    man    rearing  his 

massive  form  and  towering  height  above  his  now  aroused 

companion,    as    some    monstrous     and    maddened    wild 

beast  trapped  in  his  native  jungle  might  have   done, 

"that  you  had  any  hand  in  this " 

"Brad,  recollect  yourself,"  said  Jump,  in  a  low, 
warning  tone, 

' '  They  've  got  it,  I  say, ' '  choked  Simons,  purple  in  the 
face. 

"You're  crazy, — got  what?" 

"They're  going  to  get  her  from  me,  after  all!" 
Jump 's  companion  was  frothing  at  the  mouth  now,  black 
in  the  face — all  but  speechless. 

"Brad,  you've  got  to  pull  yourself  together;  then,  if 

I  can  help  you " 

"If,  as  you  saj'',"  went  on  the  laboring  man  grad- 
ually resuming  control  of  himself,  "that  marriage  agree- 
ment between  Mona  Walker  and  me  has  been  secretly 
taken,  from  what  I  hear  it's  got  into  the  hands  of  my 
enemies.  They'll  use  it  against  me  with  De  Braddock. 
I  am  convinced  that  is  what  has  given  them  their  confi- 
dence to  brave  me  as  they  are  doing. ' ' 

"Well,"  coolly  remarked  the  other,  in  order  to  fur- 
ther quiet  Simons, — for  it  had  been  already  noted,  by 
the  outlaw,  that  their  unusual  conference  was  attracting 


ACQUITTAL.  431 

passing  attention, — "what,  in  the  name  of  the  god  of 
Love,  your  little  eupid  boy,  can  I  do  ? " 

"I  have  a  plan — join  me  in  it,"  cried  Simons  reck- 
lessly. 

"Now  see  here.  Brad,"  diplomatically  rejoined  the 
other,  craftily  gaining  time,  ' '  that,  you  know,  depends  on 
what  you're  up  to. 

"We're  in  the  same  boat — you  and  I,"  retorted  Brad 
Simons  doggedly. 

"In  a  measure,  that's  true,"  admitted  Jump. 

"In  a  measure?"  sneered  Simons. 

"  In  a  measure — yes, ' '  returned  the  other  man,  coolly. 

"Jason  Jump,  if  I  go  down  in  this  thing,  you  go 
with  me,  if  you  refuse  now  to  stand  by  me,"  and 
Brad  Simons'  words  were  uttered  with  a  cold  blooded 
deliberation  that  carried  conviction. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  the  outlaw  leader 
wasted  no  more  time  in  skirmishing. 

It  was  long  that  they  wrangled  and  talked.  They  ad- 
journed to  a  place  of  more  privacy ;  and  continued  their 
discussion.  Jump's  fate  was  in  Simons'  hands.  After  a 
stormy  time,  when  it  looked,  at  moments,  as  if  the  life 
itself  of  the  cattleman  was  in  danger  from  the  outlaw, 
the  leader  of  the  freebooters  at  the  last  gave  in. 

Simons'  climax  of  villainy  had  precipitated  a  condi- 
tion of  things  such,  as,  in  truth  and  tragic  fate  and 
among  the  many  and  appallingly  evil  things  which  Ja- 
son Jump  had  aimed  at  and  been  guilty  of!  offered  es- 
cape and  survival  for  the  outlaw  chieftain,  only  at  the 
sacrifice  of  the  remaining  and  cherished  principle  of  the 
wretched  man's  blasted  and  dishonored  life — his  poetic 
and  chivalrous  refusal  to  "make  war  on  women!"  And 
it  had,  at  last,  to  be  this  with  all  the  rest! — Well,  it  was 
De  Braddock's  safety  or  his  own, — so  let  it  go — aye, 
what  else !  let  it  go. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 


LOST. 


"Father,  De  be  lost!" 

This  startling  exclamation  was  uttered  by  Mother 
Braddock,  who,  with  a  very  white  and  anxious  face,  con- 
fronted Uncle  Peter,  when  he  came  in,  late  in  the  after- 
noon, from  the  field. 

"Shucks,  mother,"  said  the  old  man,  "the  gal's  not 
a  babby.    What  d'ye  mean?" 

Mother  Braddock,  who  had,  in  common  with  the 
rights  of  all  parents,  never  come  to  view  her  offspring 
in  any  other  light  than  that  of  infancy,  asserted  anx- 
iously, once  more, 

"Peter,  I  tell  ye,  the  child  be  lost." 

Peter  Braddock,  hereupon,  paused  and  leveled  his 
gaze  at  Martha.  "Marthy,"  he  said  quietly,  "whut  do 
ye  mean?" 

Called  upon  to  explain,  the  distressed  woman  said 
their  daughter,  some  hours  before,  had  gone  across  fields 
to  a  neighbor's  to  get  the  loan  of  a  household  article. 
William  White  had  called,  in  De's  absence,  and,  as  the 
girl  had  not  yet  returned  from  her  errand,  Mrs.  Brad- 
dock had  knowingly  suggested  that  William  walk  over 
alone  and  return  with  her.  This,  White  had  undertaken 
to  do.  His  old  sweetheart  had,  then,  been  gone  beyond 
the  time  necessary  to  reach  the  farmhouse  she  had  set 
out  for.  William  White  soon  came  back  to  ^Mrs.  Brad- 
dock with  the  information  that  De  had  not  been  seen  at 
the  house  for  which  she  had  left  home,  nor  had  he  been 
able  to  learn  anything  concerning  her.    He,  then,  visited 

432 


LOST.  433 

the  only  other  acquaintance  likely  to  offer  a  tarrying 
point  of  country  gossip  for  the  maid ;  had  learned  noth- 
ing of  the  missing  girl,  and  again  returned  to  her 
mother  to  hear  that  the  daughter  was  still  unfound  and 
to  begin  to  share  a  part  of  Mrs.  Braddock's  uneasiness. 
White  had,  when  Uncle  Peter  Braddock  reached  home, 
been  gone  some  time  since  he  started  upon  a  final  search. 
"What  did  it  all  mean?"  was  Martha  Braddock's  ap- 
prehensive appeal  to  the  old  farmer. 

"There,  there,  mother,  don't  git  excited.  Now,  ye 
know  it'll  be  all  right,"  said  Uncle  Peter  in  an  attempt 
to  quiet  his  wife's  natural  and  anxious  apprehensions. 

But  when,  as  the  evening  wore  on  and  it  grew  late, 
no  tidings  came  of  De  or  William,  Mr.  Braddock  too  be- 
came possessed  of  Martha's  fears.  He  stirred  the  farm- 
boy  out,  and,  leaving  him  in  charge  with  mother,  went 
himself  among  the  neighbors  and,  with  them,  into  the 
surrounding  country  to  seek  for  his  missing  daughter. 

William  White's  living  place,  the  Widow  Walmsey's, 
was  stopped  at,  and  Uncle  Peter  learned  that  the  writer 
had  been  there,  directly  after  he  left  Uncle  Peter's 
house  the  last  time;  and  taken  Smoky  Billings,  and  the 
two  had  left  Wliite's  place  together.  Peter  Braddock, 
by  this  time  nearly  as  much  disturbed  as  INIother  Brad- 
dock herself,  came  back  to  his  own  home.  Mrs.  Brad- 
dock, now  vnld  \^dth  alarm,  met  him  to  say  that  no  news 
had  been  received  of  the  lost  girl.  Quieting  his  wife  as 
well  as  possible,  the  old  man  at  once  distributed  the 
neighbors  who  had  joined  him,  directing  some  over  the 
adjoining  regions,  and  with  his  personal  followers  took 
the  portion  of  territory  he  had  assigned  to  himself.  The 
hunt  began. 

The  country,  as  Peter  Braddock  and  Martha  only 
too  well  knew,  was  still  infested  with  the  most  desperate 
characters ;  and  it  was  with  the  most  anxious  and  serious 


434  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

anticipations  that  Peter  at  last  realized  the  vital  nature 
of  his  search. 

When  De  Braddock  started  to  go  to  the  neighbor's 
the  sun  was  shining  brightly,  and  the  trees  and  fields 
were  gleaming  with  the  jewel  drops  with  which  recent 
rains  had  plentifully  bedecked  the  woodland  landscape. 
Her  way  lay  across  a  meadow;  and,  on  surmounting  a 
fence,  she  found  herself  in  a  lane.  The  air  was  pure 
and  fresh,  and,  in  her  glad  release  from  the  thrall  of 
John's  care,  she  inhaled  the  sweet  and  exhilarating  scent 
of  the  fields  and  woods  with  a  keen  and  even  joyous 
sense  of  freedom.  She  moved  briskly,  throwing  little 
loving  words  to  the  cattle,  calves,  sheep  and  lambs 
watching,  with  wide  innocent  eyes,  the  pretty  damsel 
go  by.  She  was  passing  a  piece  of  wood  when  a  man, 
whose  face,  where  his  broad  black  slouch  hat  left  it 
visible,  was  almost  covered  with  a  great  black  beard, 
stepped  from  among  the  trees  into  the  road  directly  in 
her  path. 

"Pardon  me,  miss,"  he  said,  in  a  deep,  bass  voice, 
"but,  ez  we're  both  goin'  the  same  road,  Ave  might  's 
well  be  sociable  like. ' '  The  speaker  looked  up  and  down 
the  narrow  stretch  between  the  fences,  with  a  sv/eeping 
glance.    There  was  no  one  in  sight. 

Before  she  could  cry  out.  Black  Hank  had  caught  her 
firmly  in  his  arms.  A  big,  brawny  hand  was  clapped 
securely  over  her  mouth,  and  without  power  of  outcry 
she  was  carried  a  helpless,  struggling  captive  into  the 
wood.  Her  senses  became  affected  by  a  powerful  odor 
from  a  cloth  held,  by  her  captor,  against  her  mouth 
and  nostrils ;  her  struggles  grew  fainter,  and  she  became 
unconscious. 

The  first  she  realized,  after  this,  was  the  sound  of 
running  water;  the  swinging  light  of  a  lantern  carried 
by  a  surly  ruffian  ahead  of  her,  and  rough  arms  which 


LOST.  435 

encircled  and  conveyed  her  surely  along  a  narrow,  rocky 
path,  in  what  seemed,  to  her  newly  awakened  senses, 
to  be  a  large  cavern.  She  could  see  to  the  right  a 
somber  stream  which  lay,  like  a  mysterious  and  deadly 
basilisk,  gleaming  from  many  orbs  of  light  reflected  in 
its  dark  and  forbidding  face  from  the  lantern's  dancing 
rays;  and  whose  murmurous  and  even  languorous  w^ash 
and  ebb  had  been  the  sound  of  flowing  waters  she  had 
heard.     On  the  left  was  a  wall  of  solid  rock. 

It  became  a  slowly  growing  comfort  to  her,  as  they 
proceeded,  to  gather,  in  some  manner  from  the  care 
taken  of  her  person,  that  no  immediate  harm  to  her 
could  be  meditated.  This  brought,  with  its  instinctive 
feeling  of  at  least  temporary  security,  a  corresponding 
sensation  of  relief  and  confidence  and,  while  she  was 
conscious  of  all  that  had  passed,  De  Avas  able,  with 
her  natural  courage,  to  reflect  in  a  composed  effort  upon 
the  motives  which  might  have  moved  these  men  to  bring 
her  here.  Before  her  and  him  who  held  her  in  his  arms, 
still  walked  the  bearer  of  the  lantern.  She  found  her- 
self feeling  a  curious  and  ^vondering  interest  in  the 
reflection  of  the  unsteady  light,  in  thousands  of  spark- 
ling, gem-like  rays  from  roof  and  walls  and  water. 
Her  captors  turned  from  the  path,  which  they  had  been 
pursuing,  into  an  extensive  chamber  hewn,  as  the  girl 
perceived,  by  the  magical  hand  of  nature  in  the  solid 
rock.  She  was  carried  across  the  width  of  the  apart- 
ment and  deposited  not  rudely  upon  a  coarse  pallet  of 
straw,  wath  which  the  place  was  already  provided.  Up 
to  this  time,  the  captive  girl  had  not  spoken. 

"Here,  Mother,"  exclaimed  Black  Hank,  ''look  after 
the  lady."  Hank  turned  to  Rachel  Bolers,  who  sat  on 
a  low  stool  near  the  pallet,  gazing,  with  a  peculiar  in- 
tentness,  at  the  form  reclining  upon  the  straw. 

"So  you  would  do  it,  would  ye,"  said  the  woman, 


436  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"though  I  told  ye  not  to?    You'll  suffer  for  it— you'll 
suffer  for  it,  I  tell  ye." 

The  prisoner  was,  at  first,  unable  to  tell  whether  this 
speech  was  addressed  to  herself  or  to  the  others  in  the 
cavern.  She  lay  watching  Rachel  Bolers  whom  she,  of 
course,  knew,  and  was  about  to  speak,  when  the  leader 
of  the  desperadoes  ejaculated  impatiently, 

"Hold  yer  squeak,  will  ye,  ye  ol'  fool,  er  ye '11  git 
doused  in  th'  drink  out  there,"  extending  his  arm  an- 
grily in  the  direction  of  the  lonely  and  mysterious  body 
of  water  past  which  De  had  been  brought.  "Now,  ye 
shut  up." 

* '  I  won 't  shut  up — you  can 't  make  me  shut  up — you 
can't — you  can't — you  can't!"  screamed  the  woman,  in 
an  apparently  sudden  and  wholly  uncontrollable  parox- 
ysm of  spleen  and  rage, — "an'  I  tol'  ye  not  to  take  the 
gal." 

"I  can't,  can't  I?"  grimly  retorted  Black  Hank. 
' '  Here,  you.  Hen,  take  hold :  when  she  gits  in  these  tan- 
trums, ye  know  she's  got  to  be  dealt  with,"  and  appeal- 
ing to  his  follower  for  the  necessary  assistance  to  subdue 
Rachel  Bolers  in  a  supposed  return  of  one  of  her  irre- 
sponsible outbursts,  the  robber  chieftain  sprang  upon 
the  offending  female. 

The  girl,  likewise,  leaped  from  the  straw,  where  she 
lay.  "You  must  not,"  she  cried,  endeavoring,  by  the 
use  of  all  the  power  she  possessed,  to  prevent  the  assault 
of  the  burly  outlaw  upon  their  female  associate. 

"See  here,  miss,  we  don't  want  any  interference,  er 
we'll  have  to  tie  ye  both  up,  together,"  grimly  obsen^ed 
the  leader  of  the  ruffians. 

"Come,  Hank,"  put  in  the  now  quiet  voice  of  Rachel, 
"let  the  gal  be.    I  ain't  meanin'  to  give  ye  no  trouble." 

The  astonished  look  that  Black  Hank  turned  upon 
the  speaker,  at  this  speech,  brought  a  ringing  laugh  from 


LOST.  437 

Rachel;   and  made   even   De   smile,   while   the   outlaw, 
called  Hen,  grinned  with  evident  relish. 

"Hain't  ye  a-goin'  to  hev'  one  uv  yer  fits,  Rachel?" 
asked  Hank,  in  a  manner  of  such  seemingly  disap- 
pointed expectation  that  again  Rachel  Bolers'  laugh 
rang  through  the  cave. 

"Not  even  to  oblige  you.  Black  Hank,  with  yer  hand- 
some face  and  big  black  beard,"  she  shook  her  head 
slightly  at  De,  or  the  latter  fancied  she  did,  and  reseated 
herself  upon  the  stool  with  an  air  of  having  closed  the 
incident. 

"Ye  must  be  a-gittin'  better,"  muttered  Hank,  in 
his  confusion,  "ez  they  sayed  ye  wuz." 

Rachel  Bolers  seemed  to  pay  no  further  attention  to 
the  presences  about  her,  than  to  reach  out  with  a  natural 
gesture  and  draw  the  captive  girl  down  upon  the  straw, 
once  more. 

' '  Poor  gal ! "  was  all  she  said. 

William  White,  accompanied  by  Smoky  Billings 
whose  assistance  he  obtained  when  the  writer  had  visited 
the  Widow  Walmsey  's,  set  resolutely  forth  upon  a  search 
for  the  missing  girl. 

"What,  to  Billings,  with  his  previous  familiarity 
with  the  freebooters  into  whose  company  he  had  been 
thrown  on  his  first  arrival  in  the  state,  wore  the  appear- 
ance of  a  clue,  soon  presented  itself.  The  two  searchers 
met  a  farmer  who  told  them  of  having  seen,  earlier  in 
the  day,  a  man  of  very  suspicious  actions  lurking  around 
the  neighborhood  of  Peter  Braddock's  farm.  The  infor- 
mant described  the  man,  and  Smoky  Billings  at  once 
recognized  the  resemblance  to  Black  Hank.  He  com- 
municated his  opinion  to  William  Wliite,  and  the  latter 
confirming  the  likeness,  the  fearless  tramp  was  the  first 
to  advise  resort  to  the  region  in  which  acquaintance  with 
the  general  locality   haunted  by  the  outcasts   enabled 


438  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

him  to  suppose  their  cave  to  be.  Ha\ang  deserted  the 
band  of  outlaws  before  they  reached  the  cavern,  the  night 
they  kidnaped  White,  Smoky  had,  on  occasion  when  his 
limited  duties  permitted,  revisited  the  wild  nook  of 
country,  which  the  two  now  sought,  and  spent  more 
than  one  idle  hour  in  a  vain  search  for  some  method  of 
entrance  into  the  robbers'  den. 

Night  had  fallen,  when  they  reached  the  region  of 
their  intended  search,  and,  but  for  the  light  of  the  stars, 
it  would  have  been  quite  dark.  The  desolate  air  worn 
by  the  surrounding  landscape  made  it  easy  to  under- 
stand the  objection,  on  the  part  of  the  country  people, 
to  coming  here,  more  than  they  could  help.  Held  back 
by  the  popular  belief  that  the  locality  was  haunted,  and 
by  the  terrorized  subjection  in  wliich  the  freebooters 
kept  them,  the  country  folk  had,  as  yet,  put  forth  but 
little  effort  at  unearthing  the  hiding  place  of  the  e\'il- 
doers.  Few,  if  any,  could  be  found  so  daring  as  to  keep 
night  watch  in  this  infested  region.  It  need,  however, 
hardly  be  said  of  Smoky  Billings  and  William  White 
that  circumstances  had  brought  about  their  own  pres- 
ence on  that  questionable  territory,  at  a  time  when  all 
the  reputed  or  actual  ghosts  from  the  da\\Ti  of  being  to 
that  day  would  not  have  weakened  their  intention  of 
rescuing  De  Braddock,  if  a  captive  in  the  hands  of  the 
outlaws. 

They  took  a  prudent  position  concealed  among  the 
trees  and  thickets,  within  view  of  a  towering  precipice 
which  Smoky  Billings'  feeling  told  him  might  be  con- 
nected with  the  robbers'  cave.  And  here  they  waited. 
The  stars  alone  gave  light,  owls  hooted  and  whippoor- 
wills  called,  and  now  a  bat  would  dart,  zigzag,  across  the 
face  of  the  night — weird  agents  of  nature  to  be  employed 
by  the  cunning  in  the  atmosphere  of  superstitious  dread 
created  to  frighten  the  ignorant  and  timid  soul.  A  slight 


LOST.  439 

sound  caught  the  listening  ear  of  William  White.  Smoky 
Billings  had,  also,  heard  it.  They  crouched  in  breathless 
watchfulness. 

' '  Look  there ! ' '  exclaimed  Smoky,  in  a  scarcely  audi- 
ble whisper. 

White  strained  his  eyes.  He  perceived,  not  far  off, 
a  human  head  apparently  slowly  rising  from  the  earth, 
at  the  foot  of  the  beetling  crags,  in  the  midst  of  a  growth 
of  low  bushes.  Smoky  laid  a  cautious  and  restraining 
hand  upon  his  employer's  arm. 

"Wait,  Mr.  White,"  whispered  the  man,  drawing 
from  his  pocket  a  huge  navy  six  shooter,  which  he  had 
provided  himself  with  since  the  attack  upon  White  by 
Simons'  ruffians; — "I  think,  if  necessary,  I  have  a  bit 
of  a  persuader  here,  that  ought  to  do  some  good." 

White,  who  was  himself  well  armed,  here  carefully 
drew  his  own  weapon. 

The  head  in  the  bushes  rose  higher  and  higher  until 
the  form  of  a  man  stood  erect,  shadowed  against  the  cliff. 
The  apparition  stooped  and  appeared  to  busy  itself  with 
some  arrangements  to  be  completed  at  its  feet.  After  a 
moment  the  man  stepped  out  of  the  clump  of  bushes, 
hesitated  and  then  started  in  the  direction  of  the  place 
of  concealment  occupied  by  Smoky  Billings  and  De's 
lover. 

"Now,  sir,  stand  by,"  directed  Smoky. 

The  man,  in  their  sight,  moved  forward  briskly,  and, 
unaware  of  their  vicinity,  was  in  the  act  of  passing  the 
hidden  watchers  when  Smoky  Billings,  taking  no 
chances,  stepped  out  in  front  of  him. 

"Hands  up,"  he  commanded  shortly,  leveling  his 
revolver  at  the  other's  head. 

The  man's  hands  went  up. 

"Mr.  White,  sir,"  calmly  observed  the  former 
tramp,  keeping  his  eyes  fastened  upon  the  surprised  rob- 


440  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

ber,  "I  thought  I  couldn't  be  mistaken.  I  remember 
this  man,  as  one  of  them  desperadoes  what  I  was  with, 
that  night,  they  carried  you  off."  The  outlaw  gave  a 
perceptible  start.  "Will  you  please,  sir,  look  after  his 
weepons  ? ' ' 

"So  you're  that  sneakin',  traitor,  tramp-sailor  we 
saved  frum  starvin',  are  you?"  said  Billings'  prisoner, 
with  a  fierce  oath,  at  the  same  instant  in  a  quick  move- 
ment, making  an  attempt  to  reach  a  weapon  of  his  own. 

There  was  a  flash  in  the  half  darkness  of  the  night, 
and  Hen,  Black  Hank's  first  lieutenant,  fell  dead  with  a 
bullet  through  his  brain. 

"Sorry,"  said  Billings  as  he  bent  above  the  fallen 
outlaw,  holding  his  smoking  navy  in  his  hand,  "but  it 
had  to  be  done.  What's  this,  sir?"  Smoky  Billings 
picked  off  the  ground,  where  it  had  fallen  from  the 
nerveless  grasp  of  the  dead  robber,  a  small  white  hand- 
kerchief. 

The  two  men  examined  it.  With  the  help  of  a  match 
they  made  out  De  Braddock's  initials  in  one  corner. 

"We  must  get  into  that  cave,"  said  White,  his  face 
pale,  tense  and  set. 

The  writer  and  the  ex-tramp  at  once  proceeded  to  the 
spot  where  they  had  first  seen  the  outlaw,  as  he  had  risen 
from  the  earth  and  bushes.  The  arrangement  was  simple 
enough,  but  so  cunningly  contrived  that  those  most 
familiar  with  the  locality  would  have  found  it  difficult 
to  discover,  without  assistance,  the  cave's  entrance. 
Cautiously  testing  the  ground  among  the  bushes  it  was 
easily  discovered  that  the  apparently  solid  earth  gave 
back  a  hollow  sound.  Dirt,  stone  and  dead  brush  re- 
moved, disclosed  a  trap  made  of  common  wood.  This 
lifted,  a  short  flight  of  steps  led  them,  through  an  ample 
doorway  in  the  underbase  of  the  cliff,  into  a  dark  and 
dank  subterranean  passage. 


LOST.  441 

A  lantern  stood  just  within  the  entrance  to  the 
cavern,  and  as  a  match  flared  in  Smoky's  fingers  the 
means  of  additional  light  was  found. 

"I  have  been  here,  before,"  said  De's  lover;  and,  as 
they  proceeded  stealthily  on  their  way  into  the  earth, 
he,  once  more,  related  to  Smoky  Billings  his  own  ex- 
perience with  the  outlaws.  The  sparkling  walls  and 
ceilings  flashed  into  Billings'  eyes,  as  he  listened  again 
to  the  story  of  his  friend  and  benefactor,  and  the  rain- 
bow hues  of  limpid  light  seemed  to  form  a  bow  of 
promise  for  the  morrow  of  their  trials  to  the  former 
rover  of  the  deep. 

"A  rainbow,  in  the  morning,  is  a  sailors  warning; 
A  rainbow,  at  night,  is  a  sailor's  delight." 

White  retained  a  fair  idea  of  the  locality  after, 
when  formerly  a  prisoner  in  the  hands  of  the  outlaws, 
the  cloth  had  been  removed  from  his  eyes  and  he  had 
found  himself,  by  lantern  light,  in  the  underground 
way;  and,  exercising  great  care,  they  were  not  long  in 
arriving  at  the  chamber  in  which  the  writer  had  once 
seen  the  recumbent  form  of  the  disordered  Rachel  Bol- 
ers,  resting  upon  the  pallet  of  straw.  A  flood  of  light 
streamed  out  through  the  lofty,  arched  doorway  and  fell 
across  their  path. 

"Is  that  you.  Hen,"  called  a  deep,  rough  voice,  the 
caller,  wdthin  the  cavernous  chamber,  unseen  by  Wliite 
or  Billings,  as  the  intruders'  footsteps  sounded  in  their 
approach  to  the  apartment, — "what  fetches  yo'  back  so 
soon?" 

But  Hen  was  nevermore  in  present  earthly  flesh  to 
answer  call  of  chief  or  outlawed  act. 

Directing  Smoky,  in  a  low  whisper,  to  place  the  lan- 
tern where  the  obscured  rays  would  leave  their  persons 
in  the  shadow,  William  White  peered  intently  and 
cautiously  around  the  edge  of  the  rocky  portal.     The 


442  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

place  had  been  brilliantly  illuminated — the  lamps,  re- 
membered by  White,  about  the  walls,  with  their  now 
dazzling  reflectors  almost  blinding  his  dusk-accustomed 
eyes.  He  perceived,  at  the  farther  side  of  the  room, 
three  figures, — one,  sitting,  was  that  of  Rachel  Bolers; 
another,  the  writer  saw,  was  the  captain  of  the  outlaws, 
who  was  gazing,  erect,  in  the  direction  whence  the  sounds 
had  come.  There  was  a  form  lying  upon  the  bed  of 
straw  recalled  by  White,  the  form  of  a  woman — De 
Braddock. 

The  silence  that  followed  upon  the  outlaw  chieftain's 
exclamation  excited  the  alarm  of  Black  Hank.    He  took 
'  a  step  forward. 

''Why,  the  hell!"  he  shouted;  "don't  you  answer?" 

"Smoky,"  hurriedly  whispered  White,  "there  are 
only  those  we  see,  in  all  likelihood.     Come  on." 

They  dashed  into  the  glittering  place,  where  the 
magical  burst  of  splendor  and  illumination  arranged,  as 
a  possible  courtesy  to  De,  by  Black  Hank,  during  his 
period  of  waiting  for  the  return  of  his  lieutenant,  now 
shed,  from  wall  and  roof  of  the  rebel's  home,  showers  of 
dazzling  red,  blue  and  violet  rays.  With  a  horrible  and 
blood-curdling  oath,  the  outlaw  chieftain  fired  at  his 
swiftly  racing  foes,  invading,  for  the  first  time,  the  se- 
curity of  his  lair.  The  report  of  his  weapon  crashed  in 
a  deafening  explosion  against  the  confines  of  the  caverns 
and  growled  and  thundered  out  in  the  mysterious  reg- 
ions of  the  hidden  stream,  echoing,  in  hollow  repetitions, 
like  the  threatening  sounds,  flurry  and  din  of  victorious 
and  besieging  forces.  Surprised  and  awed  by  the  seem- 
ingly incredible  discovery  of  his  den  the  outlaw's  aim 
had  been  uncertain,  and,  with  the  practice  of  the  soldier, 
White  returned  the  enemy's  fire.  Black  Hank  sank  to 
the  floor  of  the  cavern,  with  a  groan,  mortally  wounded. 
De  screamed  wildly,  as  she  rose  from  the  couch  on  which 


LOST.  443 

she  had  been  lying,  and  Rachel  Bolers  up  started,  like  a 
sybil,  to  her  feet.  Specter-like  she  shrieked  at  the  fallen 
outlaw  chieftain. 

"I  told  ye — I  told  ye,  ye'd  be  sorry — ye'd  suffer  for 
it.  I  told  ye, ' '  and,  with  eyes  strained  and  staring  at  the 
prostrate  form  of  the  outcast,  remained  upright  where 
she  was. 

"William!"  was  De's  low  exclamation,  and  De,  for 
once,  was  resting  upon  the  breast  of  William  White. 

Billings,  silently  examining  the  wounded  leader  of 
the  outlaws,  here  spoke  up. 

"You've  finished  him,  I  reckon,  Mr.  White,"  he  ob- 
served, quietly.  Even  as  he  looked,  the  outlaw  leader 
gasped  and  expired. 

This  broke  the  tension  of  the  moment.  De  modestly 
withdrew  from  White's  embrace.  Rachel  Bolers  was  at 
the  side  of  the  fallen  chieftain. 

"Dead,  dead,"  she  wailed.  "Hank,  Hank,  dearie, — 
an'  he  said  he'd  come  back  and  ha'nt  me. — But,  no  mat- 
ter," she  cried  in  almost  the  words  the  dead  robber  had 
used  to  White,  on  a  former  occasion,  concerning  herself, 
in  that  now  very  chamber  of  death, — "no  matter  what 
he  was,  or  wasn't,  he  was  brave  an'  true  to  them  as 
served  'im." 

"Come,  come,  now,  Rachel,  do, — come,  now,"  said 
Smoky  Billings  not  unkindly  to  her,  while  he  took  her 
by  the  arm  in  a  manner  of  friendliness  and  previous 
acquaintance; — "I  s'pose  it's  hard  on  you,  an'  all  that, 
missis, — but,"  and  Smoky  cleared  his  throat, — "what 
shall  we  do,  Mr.  White  ? "  he  said  breaking  off  abruptly, 
and  turning  to  White.  ' '  We  got  to  git  out  o '  here. ' '  He 
turned  back  to  the  grieving  woman,  "Some  other  time 
f er  grievin ',  Rachel.  Ye  kin  kum  back  in  here  to  'im, ' ' 
he  added  compassionately.    "We  can't  bury  'im,  now, — 


444  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

the  coroner '11  have  to  see  'im  fu'st,"  he  said,  again  turn- 
ing to  White. 

"Ye  —  no,  no, —  ye  —  ye  musn't  leave  'im  here,  all 
alone,"  and,  testifying  to  the  strength  of  some  former 
unknown  affection  and  cause  of  loyalty,  the  anguished 
woman  threw^  herself  upon  the  body  of  the  dead,  as  if 
to  hold  it  from  desertion. 

A  secret  thrill  of  awe,  if  not  of  reverence  and  respect, 
went  through  those  assembled  about  the  rough,  wild 
scene.  But  Smoky  Billings,  once  more,  spoke  up  out  of 
the  silence  broken  only  by  Rachel's  moans. 

"Mr.  White,"  he  said,  "they'll  be  over  anxious 
'bout  Miss  De.  I'm  sorry  fur  all  this, — it  can't  be 
helped,  sir,  though,  by  paining  of  the  livin'  onnecessa- 
rily.  Come  —  come,  Rachel !  —  I  think,  sir,  we  ought  to 
be  a-goin'." 

De  had  been  deeply  moved,  by  the  tragic  and  unre- 
strained sorrow  of  Rachel  Bolers;  but,  realizing  the  oc- 
casion of  as  speedily  as  possible  quieting  the  doubts  and 
fears  of  her  own  anxious  parents,  she  turned,  A^ith  an 
effort,  from  the  painful  sight  before  her,  and  said,  with 
a  sudden  movement  of  the  hand  to  her  throat, 

"Wait, — the  locket,  William,  with  your  picture  in 
it:  I  have  lost  it,"  and  the  girl  went  hastily  to  search 
the  pallet  of  straw  on  which  she  had  been  lying. 

The  woman  bending  above  the  dead  outlaw,  swiftly, 
and  with  an  alert  movement  as  of  an  animal  whose  in- 
stinct had  scented  danger,  raised  her  head. 

"My  God!"  she  cried;  "the  river  's  risin'. " 

White  sprang  to  the  door  of  the  cave.  It  was  as 
Rachel  said. 

"What  shall  we  do?"  he  ejaculated,  in  alarmed  ap- 
prehension. 

The  water,  from  some  unknown  cause,  had  e%ddently 
risen  in  the  subterranean  stream  without,  and  had  al- 


LOST.  445 

ready  begun  to  enter  the  chamber  and  overflow  the  level 
of  the  rocky  floor.  The  path,  precarious,  uncertain  and 
dangerous  at  best,  by  which  they  had  come,  was  com- 
pletely covered,  to  a  depth  in  places,  and  for  a  distance, 
covering  gaps  and  fissures,  now  making  it  a  matter  of 
utter  impossibility  to  return,  without  Rachel  could  help 
them  to  get  back  to  the  main  entrance  to  the  caverns. 

"It  can't  be  done — it  can't  be  done,"  gasped  the 
terror-stricken  female  associate  of  the  freebooters,  run- 
ning up  to  William  "White.  "You  can't  get  through, 
that  way.  And  the  other  way's  not  open,  yet.  Don't  try 
it  that  way,  Mr.  White, — don't  try  it  that  way,"  cried 
the  woman  earnestly;  "the  current's  like  a  millrace — 
you  mustn't,"  she  seemed  possessed  of  the  conviction 
that  the  writer  was  ready  at  once  to  dash  into  the  out- 
side reaches  of  the  water,  now  collecting  about  their  feet 
and,  without  guidance,  plunge  into  the  unknown  terrors 
beyond. 

It  was  only  this  that  Rachel  w^as  saying,  however, 
that  White  wished  to  know.  With  a  cold  impulse  of 
despair,  he  turned  back  into  the  cavern.  De,  pale  and 
calm,  was  at  his  elbow. 

"Is  there  any  hope?"  she  whispered  between  her 
white  lips. 

"Yes,  yes,  pretty  little  girl,"  Rachel  Bolers  at- 
tempted to  assure  her, — "yes,  yes,  there  must  be.  Here, 
here,"  she  said,  as  she  became  calmer,  "this  way,"  she 
quickly  passed  out  of  the  view  of  those  in  the  chamber 
and  was  heard,  from  behind  a  spur  of  rock  whence  she 
had  disappeared  at  a  far  angle  in  the  rear  of  the  cave, 
calling  loudly  for  her  companions  to  follow. 

Billings,  who  had  stood  in  silence  watching  the 
actions  of  those  about  him  in  this  last  crisis  of  their  af- 
fairs, was  the  first  to  obey  the  voice  of  the  woman  in  her 
concealed  place  of  hope  and  succor.    Smoky's  impulsive 


446  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

starting  forward  was  a  cue  for  the  rest,  and  he,  followed 
by  De  and  William  White — the  water  now  rising  above 
the  ankles  —  sought  the  spot  from  which  Rachel's  cries 
still  issued.  When  White  reached  Rachel  Bolers'  side, 
he  found  her  tearing  at  what,  to  him,  appeared  to  be  a 
solid  wall  of  rock.  Closer  inspection,  however,  showed 
signs  of  crevices  around  a  large  space  of  the  wall's  sur- 
face 

"There's  a  spring  'at  works  it,  some'eres,"  she  mut- 
tered,— "some'eres,  hereabouts,  Mr.  White,"  said  the 
anxious  creature. 

"Can  I  help  you,  Rachel?"  asked  William. 

"I  never  paid  much  'tention  to  their  doin'ses  in  this 
'ere  part  uv  the  biz'ness,  anyway;  but  it's  here — must 
be,"  hoarsely  moaned  Nance's  mother  still  wildly  seek- 
ing the  means  of  removing  the  stone. 

The  mysterious  underground  river  had  sought  them 
out  in  their  present  more  removed  and  even  higher 
quarters  and  was  whirling  in  circling  eddies  about  their 
feet  and  limbs.  Rachel,  with  a  cry  of  delight,  eagerly 
pressed  a  hidden  spring,  and  the  crevice-marked  piece 
of  wall  sank  slowly  from  view.  "The  machinery,"  she 
cried,  and  made  a  leap  for  a  great  iron  lever  or  crank 
at  the  foot  of  a  rude  staircase  discovered  on  the  disap- 
pearance of  the  rocky  panel.  The  terrified  woman  tugged 
and  pulled  frantically  at  this  evidence  of  mechanical 
contrivance  in  the  secret  workings  of  the  robbers'  ref- 
uge; but  seemingly  to  no  avail,  for  she  wailed  in  de- 
spair, 

* '  No  use !  I  thought  so.  The  machinery  's  out  uv 
order."  The  panting  creature  paused  in  her  efforts 
and  gazed,  with  the  look  of  some  wild  animal  at  bay, 
around  upon  her  fellow  prisoners  anxiously  and  breath- 
lessly gathered  about  her. 


LOST.  447 

There  was  an  instant  of  silence,  and  William  Wliite 
said  with  a  desperate  and  resolved  effort  at  calm, 

"Rachel,  do  I  understand  you  to  mean  that  this  cave 
can  be  flooded,  by  accident  or  design,   to  the  roof?" 

"It's  accident,  dearie,  it's  accident.  The  Watergate 
has  slipped  down  and  cut  off  the  flow  out'ard  uv  the 
river.  How  high  the  water '11  rise,  dearie,  I  don't  know. 
Up,  up,"  cried  the  woman,  the  flood  beginning  to  swish 
her  skirts,  and  urging  her  companions  to  ascend  the 
rough  stone  stairway  before  them,   "up!" 

In  passing  to  their  hope  of  escape,  when  Rachel 
Bolers  had  first  called  them.  White,  inspired  by  a  last 
humane  thought,  took  a  farewell  look  at  the  still  features 
of  the  outlaw  captain.  They  left  him  lying,  peacefully, 
where  he  had  fallen  from  the  soldier's  bullet.  They  went 
on  up  the  rocky  way  hewn  by  the  freebooters,  in  rugged 
steps,  passing  above  the  water  creeping  in  cruel  approach 
upon  them.  On,  up,  they  went,  Rachel  leading.  They 
soon  arrived  upon  what  seemed  a  final  landing  place  to 
this  staircase  in  the  rock,  going  nowhere;  for  here  the 
way  ended  abruptly.  White  looked  from  an  opening 
in  the  wall  that  shut  them  in  and  gazed,  as  from  a 
kind  of  balcony,  down  into  the  thrilling  and  half  sub- 
merged chamber  wliich  they  had  just  left. 

' '  They, ' '  said  the  woman  of  the  cave,  as  she  followed 
the  glance  that  the  writer  had  thrown  to  the  water- 
covered  floor  of  the  apartment  below,  and  hastily  drew 
her  own  look  back  from  the  body  of  the  dead  outlaw 
leader  floating  in  the  rising  current, — "they  wuz  a-goin' 
ter  finish  this  'ere  secret  way  uv  escape,  an '  never  did. ' ' 

"I  regret  that  they  did  not,"  said  Wliite  drily. 

"Their  plan  wuz  to  flood  the  cave  on  their  pursuers, 
ef  they  ^YUz  follered  in  here,"  further  volunteered 
Rachel,  humbly,  in  the  reasonable  supposition  that  her 


448  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

hearers  might  feel  interested  in  the  full,  though  com- 
plex, designs  of  her  old  associates. 

"Your  friends  were  a  precious  lot  of  rascals,  friend 
Rachel,"  quoth  the  literary  man  removing  his  gaze 
from  a  searching  view  of  the  limited  space  of  rock  by 
which  they  were  immediately  encompassed  on  the  small 
landing  where  they  stood  and,  once  more,  allowing  it  to 
rest  upon  the  stern,  set  features  of  the  dead  robber 
chieftain,  whose  body  was  slowly  wheeling  around  in 
the  eddies  below.  "Billings,"  quietly  remarked  Will- 
iam, looking  anxiously  at  De  Braddock,  "have  you  any- 
thing to  offer?"  resignation  and  hopelessness,  the  latter 
concealed,  however,  as  far  as  possible  from  De,  possessed 
him,  as  he  spoke. 

The  underground  stream  had  rapidly  overflowed  the 
lower  portions  of  the  cave  until  the  waters  released 
from  all  restraint  had,  by  this  time,  reached  a  consider- 
able and  threatening  depth.  Smoky,  in  his  turn,  stared 
mechanically  down  upon  the  place  from  which  they  had 
but  recently  fled.  His  own  eyes  dwelt  upon  the  pallid 
face  of  the  now  silent  leader  of  the  robbers  of  the  caves 
where,  in  stubborn  rivalry,  the  powerful  surface  currents 
and  undertows  fought  for  possession  of  the  still  bandit, 
as  if  they  might  have  considered  the  senseless  clay  an 
indispensable  asset  in  providing  for  their  own  rapacious 
appetites  for  prey. 

"I  don't  know,  sir,"  replied  Billings  with  an  appear- 
ance of  hesitation,  to  White's  previous  inquiry;  and 
fixing  a  look  of  concern  upon  their  charge  De  Braddock. 
Smoky  refused  to  confess  to  the  fear  he  himself  felt  that 
they  were  never  to  get  out  of  the  caverns  alive.  He 
moved  his  gaze  over  the  walls  of  the  confined  space  in 
which  they  had  taken  refuge.  Turning  to  Rachel  Bolers 
he  casually  asked, 

"You  don't  know  where  that  leads  to,  do  you?" 


LOST.  449 

pointing,  at  the  same  time,  to  a  short,  narrow  passage 
among  the  rocks,  that  extended,  at  right  angles  to  the 
spot  on  which  they  stood,  in  seemingly  a  blind  excursion 
into  the  impassable  obstruction  of  their  prison  house : 
For  the  little  defile  apparently  led  nowhere,  and  came 
to  a  sudden  and  abrupt  end  in  their  sight. 

Rachel  answered  promptly  and  with  the  same  air  of 
rational  frankness  and  candor  that  had  characterized 
her  since  the  waters  had  shut  them  in. 

"It  wuz  up  thet  a-way  they  wuz  ter  hev'  carried  the 
secret  passage  fur  the  escape,"  said  Rachel  Bolers  with 
a  hopeless  shake  of  the  head. 

White,  for  some  time,  had  been  watching  a  small 
projection  of  stone  which  he  had  selected  upon  a  section 
of  wall  in  the  larger  cavern  for  the  purpose  of  gauging 
the  height  to  which  the  lost  river  might  rise.  The  species 
of  enclosed  balcony  on  which  they  stood  was  no  more 
than  ten  feet  from  the  floor  of  the  cavern.  The  water, 
White  judged,  had  reached  to  the  dangerous  depth  of 
several  feet.  It  was  still  rising,  but  not  so  rapidly  as 
before. 

The  end  of  the  passage  which  Rachel  had  said  was  to 
have  been  used  by  the  robbers  to  complete  their  avenue 
of  escape,  being  plainly  in  sight  and  but  a  little  distance 
off,  when  it  appeared  to  occur  abruptly  at  a  huge  boul- 
der, attracted  Billings'  interest.  He  had  allowed  him- 
self to  conceive  but  a  scant  hope  of  an  outlet,  here,  in 
view  of  the  growing  belief  that  Rachel  Bolers  could  be 
relied  upon  for  the  truth  of  all  she  had  imparted  to 
them.  He,  therefore,  quietly  slipped  away  and  entered 
the  blind  alley  silently,  lest  hope,  aroused  without  reason, 
be  hopelessly  disappointed. 

' '  They  will  be  looking  for  us  out  there, ' '  said  White, 
and  his  voice  was  as  that  of  one  who  had  begun  to  specu- 
late upon  the  outside  world,  from  the  depths  of  a  living 


450  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

tomb,  and  hollow  in  spite  of  himself.  He  looked  quickly 
around,  however,  with  a  bright  smile,  to  De  to  reassure 
her,  and  nodded  hopefully  and  encouragingly  to  Rachel. 

What  hour  of  the  night  it  had  grown  to  be,  at  last, 
none  could  tell.  Somewhere,  in  a  mysterious  chain  of 
underground  chambers,  there  must  have  been  connected 
vdth  their  own  cavern  a  reservoir  for  the  overflow  of  the 
secret  river;  for  the  body  of  water  had  plainly  ceased 
to  rise. 

There  were  rough  projections  of  stone  from  floor  and 
wall,  where  they  that  waited  found  rude  seats ;  and  here 
De  and  William  sat,  side  by  side,  as  the  heavy  and 
brooding  night  wore  on. 

They,  these  two,  who  had  been  so  much  to  one  an- 
other; whose  lives  had  been  so  interwoven;  between 
whom  but  one  dividing  interest  had  ever  come, —  they 
now  waited,  not  in  despair,  but  in  the  lofty  resolve  and 
resignation  of  souls  committed  to  that  which  the  uni- 
versal decree,  0  yes !  bears  to  all  alike  in  divine  kindness, 
merciful  understanding  of  our  common  wants  and  in 
eternal  peace,  love,  rest  and  joy. 

It  was  De  who  finally  spoke. 

"We  can  die  together,"  said  she.  She  was  thinking 
of  Simons  and  of  that  which  was  to  her  worse,  far  worse, 
than  death  itself  —  the  hateful  marriage  understanding 
between  them.  She  looked  innocently  and  fearlessly  into 
the  eyes  of  the  man  at  her  side.  ' '  It  would  be  easy,  oh ! 
so  easy,  to  do  so." 

There  are  times  when,  in  the  face  of  threatening  and 
impending  doom,  the  soul  laid  bare  by  its  owTier  facing 
the  issues  of  eternity  may  not  be  questioned  in  that 
owner's  act.  De  could  not  have  more  confidingly  con- 
fessed to  William  White  the  imperishable  love  she  bore 
him.  To  the  companion  of  her  hour  of  trial,  the  express- 
ion of  her  heart  was  sacred ;  and  he  silently  accepted  the 


LOST.  451 

meaning  of  her  words.  He  delayed,  in  that  moment  of 
gr§,ve  uncertainty  to  life,  the  revelation  of  that  which 
he  might  have  uttered  in  prejudice  of  the  subject  which 
he  well  knew  was  occupying  his  fellow  prisoner's 
thoughts  —  Brad  Simons.  Were  they  not  to  escape,  then 
might  she  as  well  never  know  the  depth  of  Simons' 
infamy;  did  they,  in  the  favor  of  fortune  and  provi- 
dence, ever  leave  the  caverns,  alive,  why  then  —  well, 
then,  they  would  — 

"See,"  De  whispered  in  awed  tones  to  "William 
White. 

White  followed  the  direction  of  her  gaze  and  point- 
ing finger. 

The  rough  and  broken  arch  forming  the  entrance  to 
the  cavernous  chamber,  where  the  angry  flood  swept 
back  and  forth,  like  the  cavern's  distant,  vaulted  roof, 
was  lofty,  and  its  top  still  remained  far  above  the  level 
of  the  water's  reach.  The  strong,  steady  ebb  and  flow 
of  Lost  River  was  ever  driving  the  dead  outlaw  in  upon 
its  inner  flow  and  outward  on  its  retreat.  The  mysteries 
of  the  beyond  were  growing  impatient,  and  the  living 
waters  clamored  and  hungered  to  claim  him.  The  bril- 
liant, garish  and  dazzling  lights,  as  yet  untouched  by 
the  waters,  sparkled  and  flashed,  gleamed  and  glowed 
upon  the  face  of  the  dead,  where  the  great  black  beard 
of  disguise  still  covered  the  features  of  one  whose  place 
in  the  world  without  had  once  been  recognized  of  influ- 
ence, dignity  and  importance.  The  evil  flesh  at  rest  — 
the  staring  and  unseeing  eyes  fixed  upon  the  flaming 
beacons  in  their  still  and  silent  owner's  underworld  bril- 
liant and  resplendent  stronghold  of  crime  —  the  lesson 
of  the  vanity  of  selfish  greed,  lawless  cruelty  and  their 
cause  drifted  at  the  outlet  of  the  cave,  where  the  currents 
and  the  waters  wrestled  to  bear  it  away  to  the  interests 
of  eternity.    William  White  and  De  Braddock  watched, 


452  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

and  the  dead  outlaw,  vrith  his  cold  face  and  sightless 
eyes  agleam,  went  out  with  the  flood. 

"William?"  once  more  whispered  De. 

"Best  beloved?"  responded  her  companion. 

"Did  the  man  do  his  duty?" 

"The  dead  man?" 

"The  dead  man." 

' '  God  help  him ! ' '  fervently  ejaculated  the  writer. 

"William?" 

"What  is  it,  true  heart?" 

"If  we  are  saved,  I  have  a  duty  that  may  command 
my  life.  0  remember  now  that,  though  I  take  upon  my- 
self other  ties  and  self  denials,  I  have  loved  those  wiio 
would  have  sorely  suffered  had  I  forsaken  them.  Is  that, 
William,  duty  —  to  comfort  them  that  sorrow,  ease  them 
that  cry  in  pain?" 

"That,"  returned  the  man,  "is  life's  first  holy  pur- 
pose." 

"And,  William,—  " 

"Yes—" 

' '  —  when  we  love  and  do  our  duty  —  ? " 

"It  is  the  dawn  of  life  immortal,"  replied  her  com- 
panion. 

She  must  have  slept;  for,  by  and  by.  White  gently 
touched  her  as  she  sat  leaning  against  him,  and  she 
became  conscious  of  Smoky  Billings  standing  before 
them. 

"Come,"  said  Smoky  with  a  look  of  cheering  hope, 
"I  have  found  something." 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 


A    GHOSTLY    GUIDE. 


They  went  with  Billings.  He  had  discovered  that 
which  Rachel  did  not  know, —  that  the  outlaws  had 
already  prepared  the  way  for  the  removal  of  a  massive 
rock  at  the  end  of  the  defile.  A  crowbar  and  pick  lay 
in  the  little  passage ;  and  with  these  Smoky  Billings  had 
demonstrated,  to  his  own  satisfaction,  his  power  to  go 
on  in  the  robbers'  own  direction  of  safety. 

None  were  more  eager  that  Rachel.  She  pressed 
forward,  with  the  others,  to  discover,  by  the  e\idence  of 
her  own  eyes,  Avherein  she  had  made  so  vital  —  so  inter- 
esting and  important  —  a  mistake. 

"You  see,"  indicated  Smoky  to  White,  taking  the 
latter  to  a  slight  opening  at  the  side  of  the  boulder, 
while  De  clung  to  William's  arm,  "out  beyond,  there, 
tho'  it's  dark,  is  open  way  uv  some  kind  er  other." 

By  the  united  strength  of  William  White  and  Smoky 
Billings  the  stone  was  rolled  away  and  went  thundering 
down  into  the  unknown  depths  of  a  pit  which  lay  just 
past  the  stone,  in  its  rear.  What  seemed  to  be  a  perilous 
path  led  up  at  the  brink  of  this  cavity  in  the  earth,  until 
it  lost  itself  in  the  uncertain  darkness  beyond. 

Smoky  Billings  insisted  upon  going  over  the  unex- 
plored way,  first.  Wliite  finally  consented;  and  Smoky, 
with  a  match  case  full  of  matches,  set  forth  upon  his 
uncertain  and  perilous  journey.  The  small  party  of 
watchers  saw  him  strike  his  first  match;  saw  him  go  on 
till  it  had  almost  expired,  and  saw  him  light  another. 

453 


454  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

All  the  way  up  that  path,  they  watched,  with  breathless 
interest,  the  plucky  and  courageous  fellow,  as  match 
after  match  flickered  low,  replenish  his  twinkling  tapers 
and  continue  to  ascend.  After  a  while,  they  saw  him 
turn  and  retrace  his  careful  steps. 

Unknown  to  even  Rachel  Bolers,  the  outlaws  had 
already  opened  a  way  —  baffling  and  mystifying  in  its 
nature,  but  still  a  way  —  out  of  the  flooded  territory  of 
the  caves.  It  was  apparent  to  both  White  and  Billings, 
that  the  brigands '  secrets  —  some  of  them,  at  least  —  had 
been  carefully  guarded  from  the  knowledge  of  even 
Rachel  Bolers  herself;  who,  with  all  her  former  seeming 
mental  frailty,  had  been  implicitly  trusted  in  many 
responsible  ways  by  Jason  Jump  and  his  fell  and  rapa- 
cious associates. 

There  is  a  shrewd  surmise,  as  heretofore  intimated, 
that  the  outlaw  leader  purposely  gave  her  the  oppor- 
tunity, which  may  have  resulted  in  her  gaining  possess- 
ion of  the  compromising  marriage  agreement  between 
Brad  Simons  and  Mona  Walker, —  if  Rachel  at  this  time 
had  really  secured  it, —  in  hidden  revenge  on  the  cattle- 
man for  refusing  Jump's  offer  to  sell  Brad  the  uncom- 
fortable and  compromising  document.  Mona  Walker's 
interests  could  have  inspired  the  unfortunate  man,  as 
well.  Jason  Jump,  as  has  before  been  hinted,  was  un- 
able to  foresee,  if  such  were  the  case,  to  what  dire  events 
his  owTi  act  favoring  Rachel  would  lead. 

But  the  discovery  of  further  galleries  and  passages 
in  this  maze  of  underground  chambers  was  little  better, 
apparently,  than  a  hollow  mockery  of  the  imprisoned 
captives'  situation,  in  the  seemingly  hopeless  confusion 
and  unexplored  condition  of  these  obstacles  in  the  way 
of  deliverance  from  the  dangers  and  menaces  of  their 
prison  house.  Still,  to  feel  that  they  were  not  to  meet 
death  amid  the  sluggish,  slimy  waters  below  the  rocky 


A  GHOSTLY  GUIDE.  455 

balcony  behind  them  was  a  relief  beyond  their  hopes  but 
a  few  moments  since;  for  there  could  be  no  doubt  that 
the  cunning  freebooters  knew  the  way  ahead  to  be  safe 
from  flood,  at  least. 

They  contrived  to  secure  a  lamp  from  the  granitelike 
wall  of  the  larger  cavern  where  the  article  of  under- 
ground illumination  had  been  placed,  by  its  original 
lawless  owners,  within  reach  from  the  landing  on  which 
the  adventurers  had  stood.  With  this  to  light  the  dan- 
gers, terrors  and  obscurities  of  their  unknown  way,  the 
begirt  though  stout  hearted  unfortunates  set  out  to  ex- 
plore their  forbidding  and  uninviting  dungeons.  They 
shuddered  as  they  threaded  the  narrow  foothold  which, 
looking  down  into  the  black  and  seemingly  bottomless 
abyss  in  the  rear  of  the  large  boulder  removed  by  Will- 
iam White  and  Smoky  Billings,  took  them  to  a  further 
small  landing  or  platform  of  rock,  where  Smoky  had 
before  paused  to  return  from  his  first  trip  of  discovery. 

There  were  many  narrow  passages  leading  in  as  many 
different  directions,  beyond  the  point  whence  Billings 
had  returned;  and  which  of  these  to  take  puzzled  and 
added  grave  and  anxious  care  to  their  progress.  It  was 
well  enough  known  to  White,  of  all  those  present,  that 
human  beings  had,  before  their  time,  been  lost  —  hope- 
lessly lost  —  in  the  labyrinths  of  subterranean  cata- 
combs, and  never  come  forth  alive. 

"Look  —  look!"  screamed  Rachel  Bolers,  suddenly, 
where  she  stood,  facing  the  way  they  had  come. 

It  was  well  the  little  band  of  explorers  had  found  a 
safe  resting  place,  for  the  startling  and  unearthly  effect 
of  the  wild  woman's  attitude  and  thrilling  exclamation 
might,  otherwise,  have  caused  serious  results  at  the 
brink  of  the  pit,  by  the  blood-curdling  note  her  cry 
imparted  to  the  uncanny  and  fearful  surroundings.  As 
it  was,  all  turned  to  see  the  inhabitant  of  the  caves 


456  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

standing  so  near  the  pit's  black,  yawning  mouth  that 
"White,  only  restrained  by  apprehension  of  an  ill-advised 
movement,  on  his  part,  being  calculated  to  precipitate 
the  object  of  it  into  the  depths  below,  stood  spellbound, 
with  the  rest,  at  what  followed. 

"Yes,  yes,"  cried  the  wild  and  possessed  woman, 
whose  spiritual  sight,  heated  by  the  events  of  the  past, 
raised  visions  foul  and  fair,  "I  see  ye,  and  I  hear  ye. 
Whut  is  it,  Hank,  dearie  ?  —  yes,  yes.  Ye  waves  yer 
arms  —  ye  has  a  smile  'at 's  kind  —  yer  w^ants  ter  he  'p 
us  ?  —  I  see,  I  see, —  ye  nods  yer  head, —  ye  '11  he  'p  us, — 
ye  nods  yer  head."  White,  following  a  gesture  of  her 
wildly  entreating  hand,  could  see  she  indicated  the  soli- 
tary, gloomy  space  above  the  center  of  the  dark,  gaping 
chasm  in  front  of  them.  He  looked, —  he  saw  nothing. 
"Yes,  yes,  Hank,  dear  Hank,  I'll  do  it,— I'll  do  it," 
continued  Rachel.  ' '  Which  one  uv  the  passages  is  it  ?  — 
Ye-e-es, —  he 's  gone,  but  he  told  me, ' '  and  she  turned 
slowly  to  her  companions  and  pointed  simply  to  an 
opening  in  one  of  the  several  galleries  stretching  away 
before  their  views.  "That  one '11  lead  ye  out,"  she 
said. —  "He  said  he'd  come  back  and  ha'nt  me,  an'  he 
done  it, —  but  he  wuz  kind,"  she  muttered  to  herself. 

"But,  Rachel, — "  began  William  White,  dubiously. 

"Ye'd  better  go  that  way,"  was  all  they  could  get 
her  to  say. 

White,  seconded  by  Smoky  Billings, —  De  remaining 
diffidently  noncommittal, —  passed  over  Rachel  Bolers' 
spiritual  directions,  with  what  bordered  on  a  touch  of 
impatient  and  inconsequential  consideration,  and  led  the 
way,  without  more  controversy,  into  a  passage  other 
than  the  one  indicated  by  Rachel ;  and  that  seemed  to 
offer,  among  the  blind  alleys  leading  in  various  paths 
from  where  they  stood,  as  good  a  chance  for  escape  from 
the  caverns  as  any  of  its  mates.     They  toiled  on,  in  dis- 


A  GHOSTLY  GUIDE.  457 

heartening  silence,  little  room  existing  for  more  than  one 
in  advance  of  another,  and,  in  such  formation,  hardly 
space  in  which  to  stand  erect. 

Rachel  kept  in  the  rear,  being  the  last  to  proceed 
and  continued  to  mutter  her  confidence  in  the  reliability 
and  correctness  of  her  recently  acquired  supernatural 
knowledge. 

After  long  and  weary  effort,  during  which  it  would 
have  been  impossible  to  tell  how  far  they  had  pro- 
gressed, De  was  the  first  to  pause.  Simultaneously  Bill- 
ings, who,  with  the  lamp,  had  managed  to  work  to  some 
distance  ahead  of  White — invariably  appearing  ani- 
mated by  a  desire  to  place  De  Braddock's  lover  in  as 
little  risk  as  possible — came  to  a  halt,  and  announced  to 
those  behind  him,  that  the  way  was  blocked  for  extending 
their  search  in  that  direction.  De,  who  had  been  ab- 
sorbed in  thought  since  starting  to  explore  the  gallery 
they  were  then  in,  said  quietly  to  William  White, 

"One,  like  Rachel,  so  long  frequenting  these  regions, 
might  have  a  guiding  sense,  if  only  a  species  of  blind 
animal  instinct, —  that — " 

"Tut,  tut,"  said  White  kindly. 

They  had  turned  and  were,  by  this  time,  retracing 
their  steps;  and,  after  a  dispiriting  trial,  again  found 
themselves  standing  by  the  great  pit. 

Rachel  now  remained,  to  all  appearances,  an  indif- 
ferent and  uncommunicative  spectator  of  the  others' 
confusion  and  uncertainty. 

"Guess  better  try  Rachel's  way,"  at  last  said 
Smoky. 

"Try  it,  William,"  bravely  suggested  De.  "Should 
it  be  wrong,  we  can  come  back  again." 

Hesitatingly,  at  length,  White  proposed  a  trial  of 
Rachel's  selection,  and  they  started  to  explore  the  pas- 
sage she  had  pointed  out. 


458  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

This  gallery  was  somewhat  narrower  at  its  mouth 
than  the  others;  but  wider  and  roomier,  as  the  seekers 
for  freedom  went  on,  than  the  one  they  had  previously 
been  in.  White  came  to  a  sudden  halt,  w^here  the  light 
which  Billings  carried  fell  upon  some  crude  markings  at- 
tracting attention  upon  the  left  hand  wall. 

Here,  rudely  carved  in  the  rock,  were  several  singu- 
lar characters.  An  arrow  appeared  first,  pointing 
straight  ahead;  then  came  a  number  of  dashes;  after 
this,  a  mark  which  closely  inspected  was  made  out  to  be 
a  crude  X  or  cross — beneath  the  cross  were  the  words: 
''Press  in." 

Over  these  irregular  markings,  William  White,  with 
a  set,  care-drawn  face,  puzzled  deeply,  for  a  moment. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 


THE    CAVERNS    OF    DAWN. 


Uncle  Peter  Braddock,  together  with  the  strong  force 
of  neighbors  whom  he  had  enlisted  in  his  search,  saw 
the  night  advance,  with  an  aching  heart  for  mother,  at 
home,  and  the  most  acute  and  anguished  concern  for  the 
TinknowTi  fate  of  his  beloved  child.  He  and  Bob  Likkum, 
whose  sympathetic  and  true  hearted  support  and  com- 
pany the  old  farmer  had  all  that  awful  night,  had  wan- 
dered away  from  their  companions  in  brief  and  un- 
successful excursions  resulting  from  occasional  sugges- 
tions arising  among  the  group  of  searchers;  and  had  as 
often  returned  to  continue  unavailing  and  fruitless  pur- 
suit of  their  quest.  It  is  doubtful  whether  or  not  any  of 
those  forming  Peter's  associates  had  knowledge  of  defi- 
nite kind  affecting  the  location  of  the  cave-resorts  of  the 
outlaws,  of  that  section  of  the  country ;  none  more  than 
confessing,  under  their  breath,  to  intimacy  or  familiarity 
with  the  existence  itself  of  the  dread  band  of  malefac- 
tors. If  the  hunt  for  trace  of  the  lost  girl  took  the 
anxious  seekers  out  of  the  more  beaten  tracks  of  the 
country  ways,  it  was  in  a  manner  alone  a  chance  prompt- 
ing that  caused  such  varying  course  to  be  adopted. 
However,  Likkum,  in  a  sort  of  knowing  appreciation  of 
the  general  detailed  life  of  his  locality,  recalled  the  as- 
sault upon  De,  by  the  outlaw  whom  Smoky  had 
thwarted;  and  discreetly  though  reluctantly  suggested 
to  old  Braddock  the  possibility  of  the  mystery  of  De's 
whereabouts  falling  in  with  a  more  extended  disposition 

459 


460  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

of  criminal  purpose  on  the  part  of  the  miscreant.  Bob, 
here,  proposed,  from  his  meager  knowledge  of  the  region 
of  their  haunts,  to  endeavor  to  discover  something  amidst 
the  outlaws  in  their  native  fastnesses.  Farmer  Brad- 
dock,  out  of  whose  Hoosier  blood  had  been  left  the  mean- 
ing of  fear  or  disloyalty,  at  once  directed  an  immediate 
invasion  of  the  robbers'  territory,  with  Bob  Likkum  as 
guide. 

It  had  transpired,  at  the  time  of  Likkum 's  sugges- 
tion, that  Uncle  Peter 's  searching  party  was  near  a  patch 
of  high,  rocky  ground  much  feared  and  avoided  in  the 
country,  by  reason  of  the  presence,  here,  of  dreadful, 
mysterious  and  unsounded  holes  known  to  reach  down 
into  the  unplumbed  bowels  of  the  earth.  They  skirted 
this  raised  mass  of  earth  and  stone  and  found  themselves, 
unknowingly,  close  to  where  the  body  of  Hen,  the  dead 
outlaw  lieutenant,  lay  stretched  out  in  his  last  rest,  by 
the  hand  of  Smoky  Billings. 

Back  in  the  caves,  where,  so  close  to  those  seeking 
them,  hail  could  have  easily  reached  the  ears  of  the 
searching  party  had  those  confined  within  the  earth  been 
above  ground,  the  captives  of  flood  and  chance  were 
poring  anxiously  and  deeply  over  the  mysterious  signs 
on  the  rocky  wall  of  the  subterranean  gallery.  The 
roughly  carved  arrow  pointing  ahead  of  the  dashes,  the 
cross  mark  similarly  and  crudely  cut  in  the  stone,  and 
beneath  the  cross  the  words,  ' '  Press  in, ' '  at  first,  from  the 
last  phrase,  naturally  suggested  the  pressing  in  upon 
the  section  of  rock  on  which  the  characters  were  in- 
scribed. This  was  found,  however,  to  result  in  nothing — ■ 
the  wall  stood  as  firm  as  adam.ant  against  their  united 
strength. 

White  knit  his  brows,  while  the  others  ranged  about 
him  in  helpless  quandary. 
'     Suddenly  he  cried  out  to  Billings: 


THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN.  461 

"Smoky,  I  have  it.  The  arrow  means  to  go  on;  the 
dashes — which,  you  see,  are  just  fifteen — mean  feet  or 
paces — let's  try  both, — and  the  cross,  over  the  words, 
'Press  in,'  means  'cross  over — press  in,' — that  is,  'Cross 
over  to  and  press  in  upon  the  opposite  wall.'  Let's  see  if 
I  am  not  right.  We  '11  go  forward,  say, — try  fifteen  feet, 
first.  Wait, — here  is  another  sign  or  something.  I  make 
it  out  to  be  a  word, — yes,  it's  the  word  'Outlet,'  is  it 
not,  De?" 

The  girl  looked  closely  and  confirmed  White's  de- 
cision. 

"But,"  said  her  companion,  "it  appears  to  be  much 
lower  down  than  the  rest,"  and  he  struck  the  rock, 
which,  before,  they  had  not  done,  having  contented  them- 
selves with  merely  pressing  in  upon  it.  It  certainly  gave 
back  a  dull,  hollow  note.  ' '  Smoky, ' '  said  White,  a  new 
idea  seizing  him  and  holding  him  back,  "you  go  on,  say 
fifteen  feet,  cross  over  to  the  opposite  wall,  and  press  in. 
I  will  remain  here. ' ' 

The  diagram  or  chart  appeared  in  the  form  of  a  puz- 
zling and  rough  sort  of  rebus,  something  like  the  follow- 
ing: 


^-V/    -'-— ~",^- 


By  this  time,  the  group  gathered  about  the  unex- 
plained portion  of  stone  was  roused  to  the  highest  pitch 
of  interest  and  excited  anticipation. 

Billings  carefully  counted  off  fifteen  feet,  crossed  the 


462  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

low,  narrow  passage  or  tunnel  and  tested  the  wall  as 
directed,  but  ^dthout  result. 

' '  No  use,  Mr.  White, ' '  he  announced,  examining  thor- 
oughly the  rocky  surface  in  front  of  him  by  light  of  the 
lamp  he  carried,  and  striking  the  wall  with  a  small  piece 
of  stone  taken  from  the  floor.  "It's  solid,  an'  won't 
budge  an  inch." 

White,  who  had  waited  hopefully,  with  the  others,  for 
a  possible  successful  outcome  of  the  trial,  felt  a  touch  of 
disappointment;  but,  remembering  the  distance  to  go 
from  where  he  stood  might  be  greater,  instantly  replied, 
in  a  cheerful  voice,  to  reassure  the  others,  "Try  paces, 
Smoky, — fifteen  paces." 

So  fifteen  paces  were  measured  off  by  Billings,  and 
another  attempt  made,  this  time  with  more  success, — the 
piece  of  wall  pressed  upon  moved.  And  William  Wliite, 
intently  scanning  the  section  of  wall,  before  which  he  re- 
mained standing,  saw  it  move,  likewise. 

"Mr.  White,"  called  Billings,  from  his  place  at  !!■« 
further  point  in  the  gallery,  "it  won't  go  in,  anymore— 
it's  stopped — the  rock's  stopped,  an'  I  can't  pass 
through. ' ' 

"Come  back,"  called  the  writer,  in  return,  though 
without  explanation. 

Smoky  Billings  rejoined  the  balance  of  his  party.  He 
found  them  before  an  opening  in  the  rough,  uneven 
rocky  wall,  a  portion  of  the  latter,  which  contained  the 
roughly  engraved  symbols  and  words,  having  disap- 
peared beneath  the  surface  of  hard,  indurated  earth  and 
stone  on  which  they  all  stood. 

"The  piece  of  rock  you  pressed  on,"  said  White, 
briefly,  for  the  benefit  of  those  with  him,  and  speaking 
directly  to  Billings,  ' '  must  be  connected  with  my  section, 
by  rods  running  under  the  flooring,"  White  expressively 
tapped  the  tightly  packed  dirt  and  rubble  stone  wth  his 


THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN.  463 

foot,  "and  draws  down  the  block  of  stone,  at  this  point," 
indicating,  wdth  his  hand,  the  dark  opening  in  their 
sight. 

The  curious  complexity  and  ingenuity  of  mechanism 
employed  by  the  outlaws,  at  this  remote  stage  of  escape 
from  possible  pursuit,  have  been  justly  attributed  as 
much  to  Jump's  general  aim,  in  the  cunning  and  tire- 
less play  of  his  acute  and  extraordinary  genius  and  men- 
tal powers,  at  a  plan  for  the  mystification  and  impressing 
of  his  criminal  and  romantic  associates,  as  to  anything 
else.  It  was  necessary  for  the  outlaw  leader  to  hold  to 
him  these  degenerates,  by  every  means  he  could  contrive. 
Nothing  so  satisfies  the  imagination  and  the  fancy  of 
the  reckless  and  the  lawless  as  wild  and  irregular  achive- 
ment. 

It  now  only  remained  for  the  imprisoned  explorers  to 
warily  and  cautiously  enter  upon  an  investigation  of 
what  lay  beyond  the  newly  revealed  and  mysterious 
doorway.  William  White  struck  a  match,  and,  despite 
Billings'  protests,  was  first  to  enter  the  gloomy  chamber 
into  which  the  entrance  through  the  wall  ushered  them. 
Smoky  followed,  and  De  and  Rachel  brought  up  the  rear. 
White's  taper  suddenly  went  out,  ere  Smoky  Billings 
had  gotten  well  inside  the  damp,  mouldy  apartment,  and 
the  former  uttered  an  involuntary  exclamation  over  the 
mishap.  The  writer's  sailor  associate,  with  the  lamp, 
was  quickly  at  the  other's  side,  however,  and  the  little 
band  of  adventurers  found  themselves,  by  its  light,  with- 
in a  commodious  and  roomy  apartment  of  the  caverns. 

"Look,"  cried  De  pointing  to  the  center  of  the  room, 
— ' '  a  table  and  food. ' ' 

And  sure  enough  the  place  of  resort,  in  the  robbers' 
adopted  plan  in  face  of  unexpected  invasion  of  their 
lair,  was  seen  to  be  a  well  equipped  point  of  possible 
siege  and  comfort. 


464  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

Billings,  scrutinizing  the  elevated  inner  roof  of  the 
cavern,  made  another  interesting  and,  at  this  time,  even 
more  valuable  discovery. 

"There's  yer  'Outlet,'  "  he  remarked  to  William 
White,  with  a  relieved  gesture  at  the  ceiling. 

Near  the  center  of  the  overhead  rocky  covering  of  the 
extensive  and  roomy  cavity,  was  an  irregular  hole  large 
enough  to  admit  the  entrance  or  exit  of  one  person,  at 
a  time.  Its  lower  edge  presented  an  appearance  of  great 
depth  from  the  w^orld  above,  in  the  seemingly  far-off 
glimpse  they  caught  of  the  stars  in  tlie  night  sky,  with- 
out ;  but  the  safe  flooring  of  the  place,  the  necessary  sup- 
plies and  the  consciousness  that  they  had  found  the  out- 
laws' emergency  exit  from  their  weird  and  uncanny 
dens,  filled  the  members  of  the  gathering,  in  flight  from 
deluge  and  death,  with  joy. 

Their  feelings  of  elevation  and  elation,  however,  were 
doomed  to  be  quickly  dissipated,  for  nowhere  could  be 
found  any  means  that  might  have  been  employed  by  the 
freebooters  for  reaching  the  opening  in  the  roof.  Search 
as  they  would,  there  was  no  ladder — nothing  to  be  dis- 
covered by  which  to  ascend  to  that  lofty  height  from  the 
floor  of  their  place  of  confinement.  They  might  as  well 
have  been  shut  in  a  cell,  bolted  and  barred,  with  no  hope 
of  ever  removing  the  inflexible  and  impenetrable  iron 
and  steel  of  bars  and  bolts. 

"Rachel,  in  a  way,  was  right, — the  miscreants  had 
not  finished  their  purposes,"  commented  White;  "or 
their  designs  are  to  forever  remain  beyond  our  knowl- 
edge and  shrouded  in  mystery." 

William  White's  observation — speculation — might  in- 
deed have  but  suggested  the  seeming  eternal  and  un- 
knowable Avays  of  all  evil,  in  the  apparent  baffling  mys- 
tery of  the  universal  plan  and  purpose  of  dark  and  de- 
vious methods,  and  shrouding  life.     I,  myself,  remem- 


THE  CAVERNS  OP  DAWN.  465 

ber,  once  asking  the  chief  of  the  bureau  of  detectives  of 
tlie  ^Metropolitan  Police,  of  Washington,  why  a  character, 
then  under  suspicion,  had  done  something  incidental  to 
the  subject  of  the  main  misdoing  then  under  considera- 
tion,— something  to  all  appearances  out  of  all  even  crim- 
inal reason,  and  entirely  devoid  of  any  suggestion  of  a 
rational  connection  with  the  rest  of  the  case.  He  re- 
plied, ''God  alone  could  answer  the  question;  that  a 
criminal  was  prone  to  do  things  there  was  no  accounting 
for,  on  this  earth." 

We  are  probably  all  similarly  and  equally  gifted. 

However,  there  is  an  explanation  for  the  missing  and 
essential  provision  of  means  by  which  the  outlawed 
workers  entered  and  left  their  cavern-refuge.  The  as- 
cent to  the  roof  was  effected,  by  use  of  a  rope  ladder,  and, 
after  exit  was  thus  accomplished,  the  ladder  was  drawn 
up  and  securely  and  secretly  concealed  in  a  place  of  hid- 
ing in  the  woods  and  rocks  above.  Thus  the  outcasts 
had  carried  on  their  operations  in  preparing  the  way  be- 
yond the  first  cavern.  They  had,  of  course,  as  yet,  not 
completed  their  purposes,  as  evidenced,  doubtless,  in 
the  unremoved  stone,  which  Smoky  Billings  and  William 
White  had  succeeded  in  displacing,  at  the  balcony-de- 
file, in  the  main  cave.  In  fancied  security  or  neglect  the 
outlaws  had  left  the  roof-mouth  of  the  cavern,  where  the 
captives  now  rested,  open. 

In  his  continued  and  absorbed  interest  in  the  uncer- 
tain prospect  of  their  escape  from  the  caves.  White 
moved  aimlessly  and  restlessly  about  their  rocky  place 
of  confinement.  As  long,  however,  as  they  could  see,  if 
only  far  above  them,  evidence  of  the  outside  world  in 
the  glimpse  afforded  them  of  the  night  sky,  without, 
through  the  hole  in  the  distant  roof,  the  problem  of  their 
ultimate  rescue  did  not,  for  some  reason,  seem  so  hope- 
less to  him. 


466  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

De  was,  already,  at  the  rude  table,  examining,  with 
the  foresight  of  a  true  housewife,  the  supply  of  provis- 
ions with  which  the  outlaws  had  furnished  their  lair. 
Rachel  was  seated  silent  upon  a  roughly  made  bench. 
Billings  was  apparently  lost  in  thought. 

"What's  this?"  White  was  heard  to  suddenly  ex- 
claim. 

They  all  turned,  at  the  sound  of  his  voice,  to  see  him 
standing  alone,  in  a  remote  corner  of  the  cave,  where,  in 
a  grotto-like  recess,  the  writer  had  come  unexpectedly 
upon  an  iron-bound,  oaken  chest. 

His  surprised  announcement  of  the  discovery  brought 
the  others  to  his  side.  The  case  was  locked,  and  only 
with  the  greatest  difficulty  did  they  succeed  in  forcing  it 
open.  Using  heavy  stones  and  the  cutlery  from  the  out- 
laws' table  upon  the  lock,  .and  forcing  the  lid  with  a 
rusty  hatchet  found  in  the  cave,  the  cover  finally  yielded. 

White  stepped  back,  with  some  papers  from  the  box 
in  his  hands. 

' '  The  stolen  bank  funds  and  securities ! ' '  exclaimed 
the  astonished  finder. 

Before  their  fascinated  gaze  lay  the  restored  wealth 
of  the  little  community,  including  William  White 's  mod- 
est bank  deposit.  The  mortgage  on  the  literary  aspirant 's 
small  farm  had  been  foreclosed,  and  he  had  lost  the  home 
property;  but  he  rejoiced  none  the  less  in  the  good  for- 
tune and  glad  tidings  that  this  unlooked  for  discovery 
would  bring  to  his  friends  and  neighbors,  in  the  outside 
world,  if  the  lucky  finders  ever  succeeded  in  getting  out 
of  their  prison, — if  they  ever  did ! 

If  Rachel  Bolers  had  possessed  the  stolen  marriage 
agreement  between  Mona  Walker  and  Brad  Simons, 
which  was  not  among  the  recovered  articles.  Jump,  if 
through  him  she  had  secured  it,  must  have,  in  some  way, 
favored  her  previous  possession  of  it ;  as  the  woman  knew 


THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN.  467 

nothing  of  this  secret  hiding  place  for  the  results  of  the 
bank  robbery,  prior  to  her  entrance  into  it  in  company 
with  William  White  and  his  companions. 

Billings,  standing  directly  beneath  the  opening  in  the 
roof  above,  suddenly  and  for  no  apparent  reason  raised 
a  prolonged  shout. 

"What's  that  for?"  inquired  the  literary  man,  look- 
ing as  if  he  thought  Smoky's  recent  experiences  might 
have  been  too  much  for  the  faithful  sailor. 

"Signals  uv  distress,"  laconically  rejoined  the  sea- 
faring man. 

They  understood.  All  that  was  left  for  them  to  do 
was  to  make  themselves  as  comfortable  as  circumstances 
would  permit;  and  hope  for  some  passing  searcher  ou 
chance  visitor  to  that  region  to  hear  their  calls  for  help. 
The  country  round  about  was  avoided  as  a  pestilence 
was,  by  reason  of  its  mystery  and  darksome  pitfalls; 
and  they  felt  a  shock  of  uneasy  apprehension  concerning 
the  fate  of  any  who,  confronting  the  additional  danger 
of  encounter  with  the  remnant  of  the  outlaw  band,  would 
have  knowledge  sufficient  to  lead  them  hither  in  explor- 
ing search  of  this  treacherous  and  questionable  locality. 
The  chance  that  their  own  signals  for  help  might  bring 
the  other  freebooters  down  upon  them  or  their  hoped  for 
rescuers  had  to  be  taken. 

Life,  at  best,  is,  now  and  then,  but  chance. 

And  Smoky  Billings  shouted  loud  and  long. 

Peter  Braddock,  under  the  direction  and  guidance  of 
Bob  Likkum,  and  attended  by  the  faithful  little  company 
of  neighbors  and  friends  who  accompanied  him  in  search 
for  his  missing  daughter,  made  his  way  cautiously 
around  the  elevated  mound  of  earth  and  stone  which  they 
had  reached.  Night  was  now  far  advanced.  Their  pro- 
gress, by  Likkum 's  advice  and  craft,  was  concealed,  so 
far  as  could  be,  from  any  possible  spying  outposts  of  the 


468  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

outlaws,  should  the  freebooters'  territory  have  been,  at 
last,  discovered. 

''S-h-h,"  breathed  Bob  Likkum,  guardedly.  "Lis- 
ten." 

Something  was  moving,  at  a  little  distance  away, 
among  some  trees. 

At  this  instant,  Braddock,  in  advance  of  his  party, 
came  to  an  abrupt  halt,  with  a  subdued  exclamation  on 
his  own  lips.  His  companions  gathered  around  him.  Be- 
fore them  lay  the  body  of  Hen,  the  dead  outcast. 

"There's  bin  trouble,  here,"  said  old  Peter  Brad- 
dock. 

"Git  behind  cover,"  suddenly  commanded  Bob  Lik- 
kum catching  sight,  on  the  instant,  of  figures  skulking 
amidst  the  scattering  growth  of  forest,  in  the  pale,  un- 
certain light  of  the  newly  risen  moon. 

Likkum 's  order  was  none  too  soon.  The  bullets 
whistled  past  them,  as  Uncle  Peter's  little  band  gained 
the  shelter  of  some  rocks. 

Likkum,  without  more  ado,  opened  fire,  and  a  groan 
from  the  direction  of  his  aim  told  that  the  shot  had  taken 
effect. 

"I  say,  Bob,"  remonstrated  old  Braddock,  "ye  may 
be  a-firin'  on  frien's.     They  may  mistook  us." 

"Don't  keer  to  be  mistook  that  way"  replied  Likkum. 
"I  seen  the'r  faces  a-kivered  up  weth  black  rags,  right 
and  proper." 

"Who  be  ye?"  called  Farmer  Braddock. 

"We'll  d — n  soon  show  you,  if  you  don't  quit  this 
place, ' '  was  the  answer,  from  beyond  Uncle  Peter 's  ram- 
parts, in  a  loud,  hoarse,  brutal  snarl. 

"D'ye  know  anything  'bout  my  da'ter  Delia  Brad- 
dock?" shouted  the  farmer. 

"You  be — say,  how'd  ye  like  tuh  find  out!"  deris- 
ively yelled  back  the  spokesman  of  the  evil  and  threaten- 


THE  CAVERNS  OP  DAWN.  469 

ing  group  among  the  shadows  of  the  trees  in  front  of  the 
party  of  searchers. 

"Ef  ye  know  anything  'bout  my  da'ter  Delia  Brad- 
dock,"  persisted  Uncle  Peter,  doughtily,  "ye'd  better 
make  up  yer  minds,  fur  yer  own  sakes,  ter  tell,  an'  tell 
quick.    We  got  th'  sheriff  here,  an' — " 

A  volley  of  oaths,  observations  reflecting  in  anything 
but  a  complimentary  sense  upon  the  sheriff  and  a  burst 
of  mocking  and  sardonic  laughter  v/ere  launched,  by 
Uncle  Peter's  uncomfortable  adversaries,  in  response  to 
this  earnest  and  resolute  speech  of  the  Hoosier  father. 

"Bob,  did  ye  see  how  many  uv  'em  were  ag'in'  us?" 
asked  Peter  Braddock,  in  a  low  voice.  The  stout  old 
Hoosier 's  blood  was  up,  and  he  was  ready  for  a  sortie  as 
any  knight  of  old  in  castle  walls. 

"Not  many,"  returned  Bob  Likkum. 

"Zach,"  said  Peter  to  Zach  Stoner,  the  sheriff,  whom 
chance  presence  in  Braddock 's  neighborhood  had  made 
a  member  of  the  searching  party,  "now's  yer  chanst  ter 
take  the  damn  villains  red-handed ! " 

"I'm  ready,  Peter,"  simply  and  grimly  returned  the 
fearless  officer  of  the  law. 

"What  d'ye  say,  Robert?"  inquired  Uncle  Peter. 

Now  satisfied  more  than  ever  in  a  feeling  that  the  fate 
of  De  Braddock  was  affected  by  if  not  in  the  actual  keep- 
ing of  the  nameless  spokesman  of  the  miscreants  and  his 
lawless  associates,  Bob  Likkum  cautiously  suggested  a 
plan  to  Uncle  Peter  Braddock,  looking  to  the  immediate 
conquest  and  capture  of  the  band  of  ruffians  before  them. 

They  were  in  the  thick  of  a  patch  of  woods — the  scat- 
tered and  broken  fringe  of  forest  thereabout  abounding. 
The  members  of  both  opposing  forces  had  secured  the 
safe  protection  of  the  trees  and  rocks ;  behind  the  shelter- 
ing cover  of  which  the  respective  little  armies,  so  to 
speak,  rested  upon  their  arms. 


470  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

Likkum  had  placed  himself  behind  a  tree  near  Uncle 
Peter,  who  was  similarly  protected.  Bob  spoke  low  to 
Peter. 

"You  and  me,"  whispered  he,  showing  considerable 
native  shrewdness,  "  'ull  sneak,  unbeknownst,  aroun'  be- 
hind 'em.  Stampede  'em  frum  the  rear.  An',  w'en 
they's  all  mixed  up  like,  t'other  of  our  fellers  'ull  hit 
'em  a  swipe  from  the  front.    See  the  idee  ? ' ' 

This  plan  was  matured  and  completed  by  Likkum, 
carefully  and  unseen,  by  the  outlaws,  sinking  flat  upon 
his  face  to  the  earth  and  crawling  silently  and  with  equal 
success  from  one  to  the  other  of  his  companions;  when, 
all  having  been  duly  acquainted  with  what  was  expected 
of  them,  Peter  and  Bob,  by  seeming  to  quietly  withdraw, 
and  by  then  making  a  wide  detour,  effected  a  position 
in  the  rear  of  the  enemy. 

A  flood  of  caustic  humor,  on  the  part  of  Peter  Brad- 
dock's  party,  supplied  and  directed  from  the  front  at  the 
outlaws,  provided  additional  diversion  under  cover  of 
which  Bob  Likkum  and  Uncle  Peter  completed  their 
clever  maneuver. 

"Yo'll  shorely  make  a  purty  pictur'  you  will,"  sang 
out  one  of  the  party,  the  object  of  this  pleasantry  being 
the  spokesman  of  the  thieves,  "when  yo'  hang  by  yer 
blame  neck  till  ye  can 't  git  yer  breath. ' ' 

A  jeering  retort  was  hurled  back,  making  up  in  \i\e 
coarseness  lack  of  any  and  all  other  elements. 

At  the  same  instant  the  signal  for  attack  upon  the 
outlaws  to  be  simultaneously  made  from  front  and  rear 
— a  shot  beyond  the  outlaws'  position — was  heard. 

"Come  on,  boys,"  Bob  Likkum 's  quick,  sharp,  ring- 
ing shout  cut  the  night. 

With  a  sudden  rush  and  wild  yells,  taking  their  law- 
less enemies  in  the  confusion  and  panic  of  surprise,  Bob 
Likkum,  followed  staunchly  and  unhesitatingly  by  the 


THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN.  471 

others  of  the  searching  party,  who  promptly  took  up 
Likkiim's  blood  thirsty  and  fiendish  war  cries,  sprang 
over  the  rocks  and  through  the  trees  that  had  sheltered 
him  and  Uncle  Peter,  and  the  entire  assaulting  force, 
firing  and  shouting  as  it  ran,  closed  from  front  and  rear 
in  upon  the  threatening  handful  of  outlawed  fighters. 

The  unexpected  and  furious  assault  from  the  rear  had 
its  effect,  and,  in  the  wildest  disorder,  the  robbers  broke 
and  fled. 

Bob  had  felt  a  twinge  in  his  arm,  following  a  scatter- 
ing fire  from  the  trees  on  which  they  Avere  advancing, 
and  this  proved  the  only  casualty  among  those  of  the  at- 
tacking party.  The  outlaws  attempted  to  rally.  Two  fell 
dead.  Three  or  four  escaped,  in  wild  flight,  into  the 
thicker  body  of  adjacent  forest,  in  their  rear. 

There  was  a  moment  of  quiet  in  the  noises  and  clamor 
of  battle. 

"What's  that?"  exclaimed  Likkum. 

A  long,  faint,  indistinct  cry  came  wailing  out  upon 
the  air. 

"It's  someun'  a-callin'  fur  help,"  said  Peter  Brad- 
dock. 

The  group  of  victorious  men  turned  instantly  in  the 
direction  whence  the  cry  had  seemed  to  come. 

Once  more,  Smoky  Billings'  signal  of  distress,  pro- 
pelled by  the  sailor's  powerful  and  experienced  lungs, 
came  drifting  to  them  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth. 

Braddock,  with  the  others,  proceeded  to  make  his  way 
swiftly  to  the  quarter  in  which  he  had  been  able  to  lo- 
cate the  sounds.  He  heard  the  call,  again,  and  it 
brought  them  to  the  foot  of  the  elevated  heap  of  stone 
and  soil  where  it  was  known  deep  cavities  were  to  be 
found  in  the  earth.  Again,  and  clearer,  came  the  shout. 
They  were  now  upon  the  top  of  the  mound,  and  from  a 
forbidding  looking  well  issued  a  cry : 


472  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

' '  He-e-el4o,— h-e-e-1-p  ! " 

My  God,  Bob,  they're  below,"  gasped  Peter  Brad- 
dock,  ashen  white  in  the  ghostly  moonlight  of  the  ad- 
vanced night. 

"It's  Billing's  voice,"  said  Bob. 

"Friends  is  at  hand,"  shouted  Uncle  Peter,  bending 
above  the  brink  of  the  hole. 

"Peter  Braddock,  is  that  you,"  roared  Smoky  Bill- 
ings. 

"It  be." 

"For  Christ's  sake  git  ropes." 

"Be  De  there?"  asked  the  old  man,  falteringly. 

"Yes." 

"Safe?" 

"She  is." 

"Merciful  God  be  blessed,"  tremblingly  sobbed  the 
farmer.    ' '  Smoky,  I  thank  ye  ! " 

It  took  time,  and  considerable  of  it,  for  one  of  the 
party  of  rescuers  to  go  to  the  nearest  point  from  which 
ropes  could  be  obtained,  and  those  above  ground  con- 
tinued to  cheer  their  imprisoned  friends.  A  special  mes- 
senger was,  at  once,  despatched  to  relieve  and  inform 
Mother  Braddock  of  De's  safety. 

"Likkum,"  White  called  up,  apprised  during  the 
period  of  waiting  of  Bob's  presence,  "we'll  be  out  in  time 
for  the  convention." 

"Jes'  take  yer  solemn  oath  on  it,"  rehailed  Likkum. 

"I've  got  a  wownded  arm,  teeth  ye,  William,"  shout- 
ed Bob  good  naturedly,  rather  tickled  than  otherwise  at 
his  hurt.  "Hed  a  bresh  weth  th'  outlaws  a-comin'  here, 
and  they  pinked  my  wing  f er  me. 

"Nothing  serious?"  called  White. 

"Nope,"  returned  the  cheerful  man;  "on'y  a 
scratch. ' ' 

"Robert,  ye   go   right   to   Mother, — she's   pow'rful, 


THE  CAVERNS  OP  DAV/N.  473 

fixin'  sich  things,"  said  Uncle  Peter;  and  Likkura  said 
he  would. 

Bob  laughed  so  White  could  hear  him  and  be  cheered. 

"Rachel  Bolers  's  here,"  Smoky  shouted  up. 

"De, "  Uncle  Peter  called  down,  "let  me  hear  yer 
voice,  gal. ' ' 

And  De  answered, 

"All  right,  father." 

The  ropes  finally  arrived  and  were  let  down  into  the 
cave. 

With  great  care  Smoky  Billings,  below,  sailor-wise 
directed  the  manner  in  which  they  were  to  be  drawn  up 
out  of  the  cavern;  and  they  were  all,  including  Smoky 
himself,  who  came  last,  soon  once  more  standing  in  the 
outer  world,  and  in  safety.  Uncle  Peter,  haggard  and 
careworn,  received  De  in  his  arms  with  the  exclamation, 

"Thank  God  Almighty!" 

While  Bob  Likkum  and  others  stood  by  and  wiped 
the  tears  away. 

"De,"  exclaimed  White,  "it's  morning!" 

Day  was  breaking — the  night  was  passed. 

"Where,  before  jedgment,  child,  hev'  ye  bin — in 
what  hole  uv  the  earth  ? ' '  said  Uncle  Peter,  a  ray  of  cheer 
breaking  through  the  shadows  of  his  eyes. 

And  De,  answering  her  own  question  put  to  White,  in 
the  caves,  " — when  we  love  and  do  our  duty?"  and  re- 
membering William  White's  words,  "It  is  the  dawn  of 
life  immortal,"  cried,  her  face  alight  with  the  new 
birth  of  day  faintly  reddening  the  east, 

* '  In  the  cavern  of  dawn ! ' ' 


CHAPTER  XLV. 


THE  WRATH  TO  COME.' 


The  country  took  fire  over  the  outrage  which  De 
Braddock  had  sustained, — figuratively  speaking,  blazed 
in  one  unrestrained  conflagration  of  public,  private  and 
general  indignation  and  wrath,  that  homes  and  firesides, 
life  and  liberty  should  be  so  violated  and  the  organized 
causes  of  such  unspeakable  atrocities  remain  unde- 
stroyed.  The  flames  of  universal  condemnation  ignited 
society,  and  the  irruption  followed. 

The  leader  of  the  outlaws,  who  was  now  familiar  to 
all  as  Black  Hank,  had  been  borne  away  upon  the  myste- 
rious underground  waters;  and  was  forever  effaced,  in 
material  evidence,  from  the  troubled  and  unhappy  rec- 
ord; as  Jason  Jump,  however,  none,  save  Brad  Simons, 
could  identify  the  dead  robber  chieftain.  Report,  in 
the  popular  mind,  from  time  to  time,  had  continued,  in  a 
vague  and  elusive  way,  to  connect  the  doings  of  the  un- 
known leader  of  the  outcasts,  as  with  one  who  was  said 
to  have  suffered  some  real  or  fancied  grievance  at  the 
hands  of  existing  government.  The  rumor,  perhaps,  had 
never  been  more  than  mere  shadowy  surmise  or  conjec- 
ture arising  out  of  the  circling  eddies  of  spontaneous 
country  gossip  inspired  by  a  word  or  a  hint — a  fragment 
of  suggestion  or  what  not — passing  idly  from  mouth  to 
mouth.  Such  comment  in  the  midst  of  the  primitive  life! 
of  that  rural  though  growdng  community, — starting  from 
just  what  original  source  none  could  tell, — nevertheless, 
was  enough  to  fix  an  idea  of  the  hidden  meaning  of  the 

474 


"THE  WRATH  TO  COME."  475 

rebel  bandit,  in  current  understanding.  But  even  so,  to 
the  general  population  the  space  between  Black  Hank 
and  Jason  Jump  was  a  cipher;  and  while  the  disappear- 
ance of  the  ill  used  and  disappointed  government  claim- 
ant, in  the  mournful  tragedy  of  the  miserable  outlaw  of 
the  caverns,  went  direct  to  Bradford  Simons'  conscious- 
ness, to  others  the  death  of  Hank  was  but  a  curious  and 
uncomprehended  coincidence  with  the  singular  dropping 
from  sight  of  Grigscomb's  political  manager  and  Simons' 
friend  and  associate. 

As  time  passed  and  Jump  no  longer  appeared 
amongst  his  followers,  many  surmises  arose  as  to  the 
cause  of  his  disappearance.  If,  in  moments  of  specula- 
tion, William  White  permitted  himself,  with  Smoky 
Billings,  to  connect  the  outlawry  of  the  robber  chieftain 
with  the  character  of  the  leader  of  the  opposition  to  his 
own  congressional  fortunes,  the  territory  between  the 
outlaw  and  the  well  known  citizen  was  too  illusive  and 
indefinite  to  secure  profitable  or  practical  conclusions. 
Notwithstanding,  the  problem  of  the  lives  of  Black  Hank 
and  Jason  Jump  retained  a  firm  and  fixed  place  in  the 
studious  and  conscientious  mind  of  the  political  possibili- 
ty and  writer 

After  everything  had  been  done  to  obtain  trace  of  the 
missing  man,  further  unavailing  effort  was  finally  aban- 
doned ;  and  Jason  Jump  took  his  place  in  the  great  cham- 
ber of  oblivion  and  forgetfulness. 

At  this  time,  however,  men  and  women, — even  the 
children  talked  of  nothing  else, — men  and  women  joined 
in  unceasing  discussion  of  the  situation,  in  that  locality. 

It  was,  of  course,  rightly  inferred  that  the  death  of 
two  marauders, — Black  Hank  and  his  lieutenant,  known 
as  Hen, — together  with  the  two  killed  in  the  skirmish  led 
by  Likkum,  could  not  comprise  the  extinction  of  the  en- 
tire band ;  and  the  ways  and  means  were  so  unremitting- 


476  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

ly  and  untiringly  discussed  and  such  steps  grimly  and 
relentlessly  taken  for  the  final  elimination  of  the  remain- 
ing miscreants,  that  sure  promise  of  early  relief  from 
outlav\ay  and  crime  dawned  upon  the  burden-ridden 
land. 

It  may  have  been  unfortunate  for  certain  phases  of 
William  Wliite's  political  interests  that  Jump  passed,  be- 
fore Wliite  had  been  given  more  light  upon  the  real 
issues  and  facts  underlying  the  ease  of  the  manager  of 
Grigscomb's  campaign  ;  although  the  ex-soldier  and 
literateur  had  now  no  reason  to  mistrust  his  own  splendid 
and  overwhelming  popularity.  In  spite  of  his  insistent 
efforts  to  have  it  understood  that  merit  was  due  Smoky 
Billings  for  the  successful  and  timely  invasion  of  the 
robbers'  den,  the  grateful  and  enthusiastic  neighborhood 
was  too  rejoiced  over  the  recovery  of  the  bank's  stolen 
valuables  and  their  o^^^l  wealth  to  permit  any  side  track- 
ing of  William  White's  own  credit  for  great  services 
greatly  performed.  And  thus  it  seemed  impossible  to 
stem  a  victorious  and  willing  unanimity  of  selection,  in 
the  case  of  White,  when  a  question  of  nomination  and 
election  should  come  about.  Thus,  upon  the  reflux,  up 
from  the  vortex  of  events,  was  to  be  thrown  the  writer's 
triumph. 

The  convention,  which  was  to  nominate  the  standard 
bearer  of  William  White's  party,  was  late  in  the  season, 
in  its  meeting.  It  so  chanced,  immediately  following  the 
day  and  night  of  De's  abduction  and  rescue,  that  ]\Ir. 
White's  friends,  headed  by  Robert  Likkum,  convened 
with  the  official  gathering  to  select  their  candidate  for 
congress;  and  Brad  Simons,  now  showing  signs  of  the 
effect  upon  his  nerves  of  the  awful  fate  of  his  perverted 
companion  and  associate,  had,  with  all  the  power  and 
adroit  skill  which  the  unfair  use  of  money  gave,  been 
long  endeavoring  to  corrupt  an  opposition  of  sufficient 


''THE  WKATII  TO  COME."  477 

proportions  to   defeat  White,   in   a   convention   of   the 
latter 's  own  party  affiliation. 

Grigseomb  had  been  nominated  upon  the  opposing 
ticket,  for  some  time,  and  Simons,  at  last  aroused  by 
William  White's  popularity  and  evident  strength,  was 
using  every  means  to  procure  the  lawyer's  election  and 
secure  the  defeat  and  overthrow  of  the  cattle  dealer's 
rival — hated  and  detested  not  only  in  politics  but  equally 
despised  and  feared  in  affairs  of  the  heart. 

It  unexpectedly  looked,  with  this  element  of  Brad's 
unscrupulous  and  determined  stand  unmasking  itself  to 
Likkum's  watchful  view,  as  if  the  nomination  would  be 
tied  up  in  spite  of  the  feeling,  in  the  popular  breast,  of 
favor  for  the  writer.  Simons  had,  through  widespread 
business  connections  in  the  primitive  community,  obliged 
influential  members  of  his  rival's  party  to  take  up,  in 
opposition  to  White  in  his  own  ranks,  a  young  man,  by 
profession  an  attorney  at  law;  and  had  attempted,  with 
some  success,  to  weaken  the  literary  man  with  a  practical 
element,  by  reviving  the  prejudice  to  what  Simons 
called,  "White's  flimsy,  visionary  and  impractical  call- 
ing"— "that,"  as  Brad  Simons  pointedly  put  it  to  those 
early  and  unimaginative  tillers  of  the  ground,  "of  a 
moonshine  maker, — verses!  what  are  they?  He'll  dis- 
grace you  before  the  country  and  the  world.  What  has 
he  done  for  the  community,  besides  accidently  finding 
some  lost  property?" 

This  was  enough  to  put  Likkum  at  his  best.  The  little 
time  spent,  by  Bob,  with  the  young  legal  light  whom 
Brad  had  filled  with  visions  of  future  national  greatness, 
will  long  be  remembered. 

"You're  a-goin',"   said  Eobert,   as  he   entered   the 

young  barrister's  simple,  one-room  office,  at  T ,  and 

walked  abruptly  up  to  the  astonished  aspirant  for  politi- 
cal  preferment, — "ye 're   a-goin',    Claw-Hammer,   it   is 


478  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

pop  'larly  understood, ' '  bluntly  went  on  the  \dsitor  with- 
out unnecessary  ceremonials,  "to  jump  at  a  leap — at 
one  grand,  shiverin',  circus  leap — to  the  position — the 
honerable  position,"  the  redoubtable  Likkum  dwelling, 
with  flattering  sarcasm,  upon  the  last  phrase,  "of  leader 
of  yer  party,  and,"  added  Bob,  appreciatively,  "of 
lovin '  bed-feller  tub  Brad  Simons.  Ye  're  a  helluvaf eller, 
Claw,  but  do  you  think  ye 're  Ben  Harrison  er  Dan 
Voor-hees?  Jes'  wait — yer  time '11  kum.  Can't  ye  hev' 
ez  much  patience  ez  a  printer?" 

Bob's  address,  directed  at  the  disloyal  object  of  it, 
employed  with  great  relish  and  emphasis  the  singular, 
dignified  and  expressive  name  of  "Claw  Hammer,"  and 
Likkum,  in  skilful  and  effective  ridicule,  used  no  other; 
nor,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  gave  the  surprised  attorney 
thereafter  any  title,  whatsoever.  The  instrument  of  Si- 
mons' now  unprovoked  and  wholly  unexpected  move 
against  William  White,  during  a  limited  sojourn  in  the 
locality  of  his  law  practice,  had,  by  reason  of  certain 
affectations  relating,  in  dress,  to  the  indiscriminate  use 
of  a  "swallow-tail"  coat,  obtained  the  appellation  Bob 
Likkum  had  bestowed  upon  him,  as  well  as  created. 

"Mr.  Likkum,"  said  the  startled  and  irate  member 
of  the  bar,  * '  may  I  ask  you  to  explain  yourself  ? ' ' 

"If  the  boys  git  a-hold  of  you,  outside,  there,"  re- 
torted Bob,  jerking  a  thumb  toward  the  window,  "ye '11 
find  precious  little  uv  yerself  left  to  explain  to. ' ' 

The  other  made  an  effort  to  show  increased  offense; 
but,  watching  Likkum,  saw  it  was  useless. 

"But,  Mr.  White  is  visionary  in  his  poetic  views  of 
self-sacrifice,  unselfishness  and  all  that  nonsense  and  sen- 
timental rubbish,"  replied  the  professional  man,  drop- 
ping all  further  attempt  to  appear  dignifiedly  uncon- 
scious of  the  object  of  Likkum 's  visit. 


'/THE  WRATH  TO  COME."  479 

' '  Did  Simons  fill  ye  up  weth  that  pap  ? ' '  queried  Rob- 
ert quizzingly. 

"Mr.  Likkum  —  " 

"Named  Bob,"  broke  in  White's  political  captain, 
seeing  opportunity  of  effecting  a  return  to  the  more 
familiar  and  neighborly  intercourse.  In  his  own  recol- 
lection Robert  had  never  been  called  anything  other  than 
Bob,  by  his  young  friend. 

" — I  am  at  a  loss  to  account  for  such  expressions." 

"Air  ye! — D'ye  reelly  think  Brad  cares  a  whoop 
whether  White  writes  po'try,  er  not?"  asked  Likkum. 

"We  should  have  a  representative  in  congress  famil- 
iar with  the  practical  workings  of  the  law,"  glibly  re- 
hearsed the  member  of  the  bar. 

' '  Did  ye  know  that  Simons  wuz  doin '  this  only  to  git 
even  weth  Billy,  'cause  the  cuss  is  jealous  uv  White, 
'bout  De  Braddock?" 

' '  Bosh ! ' '  exclaimed  the  other. 

Bob  Likkum  w^as  as  resolute  in  his  determination  to 
let  nothing  interfere  with  the  successful  nomination  of 
his  man,  as  his  present  companion  was  to  maintain  the 
position  in  which  Brad,  inspired  by  all  evil  aims,  had 
succeeded  in  placing  him. 

' '  Thet  's  yer  idee,  is  it  ? "  retaliated  White 's  unflinch- 
ing advocate.  "Well,  it  may  be  bosh,  but  yer '11  find  a 
bushel  uv  bosh  to  yer  peck  uv  bad  apples.  Now  see  here, 
young  man :  we  got  to  bruise  the  bark  to  make  a  whistle. 
I  don 't  want  ter  be  hard  weth  ye,  but  ye  b  'long  to  us, — 
why  can 't  ye  be  sensible,  ye  mortal,  ye  ? " 

Ambition  had  planted  its  serpent-fangs  in  the  un- 
wary and  inexperienced  counselor  at  law;  and  he 
squirmed  in  another  and  poorly  affected  attempt  at  of- 
fense, assumed  to  be  taken  from  Likkum 's  but  half  con- 
cealed depreciation  of  the  lawyer's  importance. 

"Did  ye  know,"  asked  Bob,  insinuatingly,  "that  Cy 


480  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

Saunders  hez  a  lawsuit  involvin'  a  rich  mine  out  in  the 
west,  some'eres?" 

Brad  Simons,  it  seems  was  not  the  only  one  possess- 
ing the  powers  of  business  persuasion,  as  will  be  seen 
by  Bob  Likkum's  prompt  and  effective  methods  as  a 
manager  of  his  friend's  interests  before  the  nominating 
convention. 

The  lawyer  did  not  know"  of  any  such  legal  proceed- 
ings. 

"7  know,"  observed  the  other's  shrewd  and  skilful 
manipulator  who  had,  undoubtedly,  been  cannily  in  the 
confidences  of  Saunders,  the  lucky  gold-miner,  whose 
lawsuit  was  genuine. 

The  aspiring  political  bee,  in  the  bonnet  of  the  rustic 
congressional  beginner,  ceased  plainly,  for  a  moment, 
its  aggravating  buzzing.  The  greedy  young  attorney 
sniffed  the  bait. 

"What  of  it?"  he  said  hesitatingly,  at  last. 

"Oh,  nawthin',"  rejoined  Bob,  indifferently. 

"Now,  see  here, — "  began  the  other. 

"Ye  wouldn't,  uv  course,  like  to  hev'  the  thousand 
dollar  fee,  in  the  case  ? ' '  added  Bob  Likkum,  rubbing  his 
arm  gently  where  the  outlaws  had  "winged"  him,  the 
night  before ;  and  half  turning,  as  if  he  had  given  up  the 
object  of  his  present  visit,  and  was  about  to  depart. 

"Wan — wait.  Bob,"  ejaculated  the,  lawyer,  affecta- 
tion and  pretense  vanishing;  "I  don't  know  about  that. 
Has  Saunders  need  of  counsel, — really?" 

Robert  had  artfully  withdrawn  the  linchpin  securing 
the  wheel  of  his  opponent's  previous  inconvenient  and 
biased  argument,  and  the  latter  ceased  suddenly  in  its 
interfering  revolutions. 

"He  has  'reelly,'  and  a  thousand  dollars  wuth,  be- 
sides," said  Likkum  easily,  but  not  yet  refacing  the 
fish  that  was  playing  with  Bob's  tempting  decoy. 


"THE  WRATH  TO  CO:\IE."  481 

"Hum!"  said  the  eager  lawyer,  clearing  his  throat 
vigorously,  "a  thousand  dollars,  oh?"  and  his  glance 
meeting  that  of  the  convention  leader's,  at  the  instant, 
showed  the  barest  flicker  of  "game"  understanding. 

"Ye  precious  young  reskel,  ye,"  good  naturedly 
cried  Robert  clapping  the  young  man  on  the  back,  "do 
ye  want  it?" 

"What,  Bob,— which— the  fee?" 

"Yes." 

"I  think  I'll  take  the  case." 

The  convention  had  met.  Brad  Simons  had  slipped 
in,  at  the  rear,  where  standing  inconspicuously  among 
the  profuse  and  general  country  audience  come  to  see 
something — anything  of  interest,  he  watched  unnoticed 
the  success  of  his  experiment.  The  delegates  were  called 
to  order. 

Likkum  was  temporary  chairman.  He  rose  and  im- 
pressively addressed  the  assemblage;  when,  after  the 
confusion  of  organization  had  subsided,  Bob  was  as- 
signed the  office  of  placing  his  friend  William  White 
in  nomination. 

Robert  Likkum  rose  literally  and  figuratively  to  the 
occasion. 

"We  are  here,"  forcibly  began  the  speaker,  "to 
nomynate  one  into  whose  hands  can  be  placed,  with  cer- 
tainty of  success,  the  objects  of  good  guv'ment,"  he 
paused  Anth  due  weight;  "and  pu'sonally  and  politi- 
cally, neighbors,  friends  and  feller  citizens,  I  quiver 
with  no  doubt,  nur  am  I  swayed  weth  no  appurhension 
fur  the  result. 

"Thuh  kentry,"  swiftly  the  determined  and  en- 
thused speaker  went  en,  "needs  lots  uv  Billy  Whites. 
Fur  why?  Bee 'us',"  emphasised  the  orator, —  "bee 'us' 
this  here  man  White  is  honest-meanin'.  He's  sincere," 
cried  Bob  loudly,  noting,  as  he  did  so,  the  darkling  coun- 


482  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

tenance  of  Brad  Simons,  peering  above  the  throng  in 
the  rear  of  the  hall.  ("You  bet  he  is,"  shouted  a  voice 
from  the  body  of  the  crowd.)  " — sincere — honest,"  per- 
sisted Bob  Likkum.  ("Yes,  yes,"  came  volleying  from 
the  gathering.)  "I  say,"  announced  White's  devoted 
advocate,  easily  and  appreciatively  sweeping  his  audi- 
ence, with  an  experienced  view,  and  thinking  he  per- 
ceived that  popular  division  of  time  known  as  "the 
psychological  moment, "  "I  see  this  ain 't  no  time  fur  me 
tuh  waste  words;  an',  ez  the  feller  sez  who  tuk  the 
hog,  'Le's  git  at  the  meat.'  I  am  here  fur  to  speak 
— fur  to  speak  fur  a  great  an'  pop'lar  candidate, — one 
who's  loved  an'  respected — one  'at's  tried  an'  true, — 
one  'at  '11  serve  ye  well.  Fur  congurss  I  nominate  the 
finished  scholard,  the  good  soldier,  the  gallant  champeen 
uv  virtue  and  the  honored  and  beloved  savior  uv  th' 
wealth  uv  this  'ere  community, — Mr.  William  Wliite. ' ' 

Cheers  and  thunders  of  applause  greeted  Robert 
Likkum 's  really  able  and  skilfully  aimed  appeal,  as  the 
modest  and  unlettered  orator  took  his  seat. 

Simons  was  craning  his  neck,  for,  at  this  point,  he 
expected  a  carefully  prepared  maneuver  to  be  executed, 
when  his  young  subsidized  tool  would  be  presented  by 
a  purchased  speaker  from  White's  owti  ranks,  for  nomi- 
nation. His  way  failed.  There  arose,  from  among  those 
in  a  thickly  filled  part  of  the  hall  the  slender  figure  of 
the  young  barrister,  upon  whom  the  political,  cattle- 
trading  craftsman  had  fixed  to  accomplish  his  designing 
and  underhand  purposes. 

"My  business  engagements,"  announced  the  lawyer, 
clearly,  "are  such  as  to  preclude  my  permitting  my  o^vn 
name  to  go  before  the  convention.  I  move  to  make  Mr. 
White's  nomination  unanimous." 

Although  this  motion  was  out  of  order,  no  final  previ- 
ous action  having  been  reached.  Bob  Likkum  at  once 


"THE  WRATH  TO  COME."  483 

led  off  with  White 's  supporters  cheering  wildly  and  un- 
controllably;  the  gathering  broke  loose  and,  in  the  end, 
the  nomination  of  William  White  was  made  without  a 
dissenting  voice. 

The  victorious  candidate,  forced  to  rise  before  the 
assembled  delegates  and  visitors  present,  got  upon  his 
feet  and  opened  his  mouth  to  speak.  The  din  amounted 
to  distraction.  They  dragged  him  from  the  platform; 
when  he  was  hustled  back,  as  a  cask  buffeted  one  way 
and  another  by  the  friendly  inflow  and  outflow  of  a 
bounding,  noisy  surf  breaking  upon  a  hospitable  shore. 

"Gentlemen  of  the  convention,"  finally  shouted 
White,  on  his  feet,  once  more,  in  the  center  of  the  plat- 
form, "I  thank  you.  I  accept.  Listen,"  he  called,  in 
an  attempt  to  hold  the  irrepressible  spirits  of  the  throng, 
— "I  shall  stand  for  law — " 

"We  know  ye  will,"  yelled  someone,  in  the  crowd. 

" — and  order,"  continued  the  candidate,  still  an- 
nouncing the  principles  of  his  future  course  in  politics. 

"Ye  ain't  a-gittin'  much  of  it,"  shouted  another. 

"Money  for  many — tax  for  all  the  people;  rich  and 
poor  justly  given  benefit  of  tariff." 

The  clamor  silenced  him. 

Presently, 

"And  you  all  know  the  rest  about  me,"  the  nominee 
went  on.  "I  am  for  good  faith  and  human  fairness.  I 
shall  not,  if  I  can  help  it,  say  one  thing  or  mean  or  do  an- 
other. If  I  have  to  tell  others  that  I  will  do  anything 
for  them,  I  will  try  and  do  what  I  say  I  will, — I  will 
not  promise  things  I  cannot  fulfill." 

Again  the  spontaneous  and  excited  uproar  arose. 
This  time,  the  orator  was  taken  bodily  from  the  speaker's 
stand,  by  the  enthusiastic  occupants  of  the  hall. 

Brad  Simons  slunk  away ;  and  William  White,  grasp- 
ing firmly,  with  his  single  hand,  the  man  beneath  his  one 


484  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

arm,  held  on  while  two,  one  on  either  side,  despite  the 
soldier's  laughing  protestations,  hoisted  him  and  carried 
him  upon  their  brawny  shoulders  past  the  delegates; 
past  the  shouting,  yelling  populace,  standing  aside ;  past 
De,  whose  glorified  countenance  shone  like  the  sun 
amidst  the  home  folks,  and  an  inspiring  glimpse  of 
which  White  caught  as  he  was  borne  along,  and  out  of 
the  building  and  past  Simons,  crafty,  deceitful,  scowl- 
ing and  shorn  of  all  but  the  glowering  and  tragic  shade 
of  Jason  Jump. 


CHAPTER   XLVI. 


*BOB   LIKKUM's   theatrical    '' ANGEL." 

When  John  Braddock  Avas  acquitted  of  the  charge  of 
the  murder  of  Zeke  Smithin,  he  remained,  at  Bob  Lik- 

kum's  earnest  solicitation,  for  a  night,  in  T .     The 

note,  in  the  sum  which  Tom  Bolers  had  forged  on  Si- 
mons, was  still,  of  course,  unsatisfied.  Brad,  upon  the 
discovery  of  the  robbery  of  Smithin,  had  been  compelled 
to  turn  the  money  (taken  by  Tom  Bolers  from  Zeke's 
dead  body  and  by  Tom  transferred  to  John  Braddock) 
over  to  the  proper  authorities. 

Bob  Likkum  was  with  John,  in  John's  room  at  the 
hotel.  Resting  in  a  comfortable  rocking  chair,  with  eyes 
half  shut  and  head  reclining  against  the  chair  back,  he 
was  relishing  a  very  large,  very  fat  and  very  black  cigar, 
tilted  at  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees  and  protruding 
from  his  closed  lips.  Bob  was  enjoying,  in  an  ecstacy  of 
quiet  satisfaction,  the  half  seen  spectacle  of  the  smoke 
from  this  triumph  of  the  tobacconist's  art  curl,  uncurl, 
circle  in  rings  and  finally  dissolve  like  a  panorama  of  life 
and  roll  away  in  space.  Robert  was  well  pleased  with 
himself.  He  had  just  quitted  a  friend  who  had  assented 
to  a  proposition  of  Robert's,  looking  to  the  solution  of  a 
vexed  heart-problem.  Likkum  would  puff  complacently 
at  the  "fat  weed,"  and  then  thoughtfully  blow  away  the 
"congregation  of  vapors"  about  him.       He  regarded, 

*  When  a  company  of  players  is  In  need  of  funds  and  secures  a  financial 
backer,  it  is  said  to  have  found  an  "angel." 

485 


486  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

with  immense  approval,  as  it  hung  upon  the  adjoining 
wall,  a  picture  representing  an  extremely  bloated-look- 
ing ship,  which,  under  the  disability  of  a  part  of  a  mast, 
hung  in  critical  suspense  upon  the  bulky  crest  of  a  huge 
blue-black-green  wave.  This  latter  uprising  of  the 
waters  took  broad  and  expansive  splotches  of  red  and 
yellow  from  a  be^vildering  display  of  color  in  the  lower- 
ing heavens  overhead  and  thought  to  be  lightning.  The 
masterpiece,  at  times,  so  fascinated  and  dazzled  Bob 
that,  at  such  moments,  he  removed  his  cigar  and,  blow- 
ing a  large  cloud  of  smoke,  whistled  softly  in  the  ex- 
treme of  his  admiration.  It  was  just  after  an  unusually 
prolonged  whistle  that  Bob  permitted  his  cigar,  retired 
from  dutj^  in  his  mouth,  to  remain  negligently  between 
the  thumb  and  finger  of  his  right  hand,  which  he  waved 
unassumingly  in  John's  direction  as  he  remarked, 

"Say,  Johnny,"  Bob,  in  a  confidential  mood,  grew 
a  shade  more  familiar  than  usual,  "that  thare  feller 
w  'at  they  tried,  that  time,  tub  lynch  fur  this  Zeke  Smith- 
in  biz'ness,  's  a  gun,  you  know  it? — saved  old  Cy. " 

John  Braddock,  rightly  apprehending  Bob's  meaning 
to  be  in  the  direction  of  a  word  of  praise  for  Smoky  Bill- 
ings, and  having  heard  of  the  rescue  of  Cy  Saunders, 
readily  acquiesced  in  Likkum's  statement. 

"Yessir, "  said  Bob,  in  unaccountable  digression, 
"I  b'lieve  in  a  man  alius  a-standin'  by  his  friends."  As 
Smoky  Billings  had  never  seen  the  father  of  Job  and 
Ann  Mariah  before  the  night  of  the  rescue,  the  last  re- 
mark of  the  genial  Likkum  certainly  appeared  to  have 
no  particular  application,  whatever. 

John  Braddock  looked  absently  out  of  the  window  at 
the  lights  in  the  village  stores  across  the  way,  and  was 
silent. 

"Johnny,"  said  Bob,  once  more,  after  some  moments 
spent  in  contemplating,  for  the  last  time,  the  marine 


A  THEATRICAL  "ANGEL."  487 

wonder  on  the  wall  of  John's  room,  and  it  was  notice- 
able that  Robert  Likkum's  tone  was  growing  to  be  one 
of  an  extremely  kind  and  affectionate  nature,  "yer  pap's 
purt'y  hard  up,  ain't  he?" 

John  readily  admitted  that  both  liis  father  and  him- 
self were  financially  much  embarrassed. 

"Yes,"  said  Bob  soberly,  and  drawing  out  his  words 
with  a  seemingly  unnatural  relish  of  his  friend's  awk- 
ward financial  condition,  "I  know  ye — both  of  ye — be 
pow'rful  hard  up;  an'  no  wonder,  'ith  all  this  'ere 
trouble  of  yourn.  Now,  then,  Johnny,"  pursued  Bob 
Likkum,  "I'd  like  almighty  well  ter  see  yer  thro'." 

"Oh,  I  know  that,"  cheerfully  assented  John  Brad- 
dock. 

"See  here,"  interrupted  Bob  Likkum,  with  judicial 
sternness,  and  eying  his  man  formally,  "they  ain't  no 
call  fur  ye  to  talk — not  a  bit — you  jes'  let  me  do  this  here 
talkin'.  I'm  a  pore  man,  ye  might  say,  when  't  comes 
to  doin'  anythin'  big,  finansherly,  an'  that's  th'  fack — 
like  'tis  'ith  a  hull  sight  uv  us;  but  I'll  tell  ye  whut," 
and  here  Bob  raised  his  voice :  ' '  they  is  others,  'at  hev  * 
got  more'n  me." 

As  though  this  had  been  an  artfully  preconcerted  sig- 
nal, John's  door  opened  and  an  individual,  combining 
many  jovial  good  natured  traits  alike  of  personal  ap- 
pearance and  voice  and  manner,  with  a  perpetual  squint 
of  kindly  humor  in  his  left  eye,  walked  in.  - 

"Come  in,  Cy,  come  in, — nothing  private,"  said  Johij 
Braddock  unsuspiciously  and  cordially. 

"An',"  continued  Likkum,  as  though  no  interrup- 
tion had  occurred  "there's  the  man." 

"What  man,  Bob?"  asked  John  looking,  in  a  puz- 
zled way,  from  Cy  Saunders'  good  humored,  twinkling 
face  to  that  of  Bob,  which  preserved  scarcely  less  smil- 
ing characteristics. 


488  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"We,"  said  Robert  Likkum,  who  had  had  several 
eonferences  with  the  fabled  Saunders  since  the  latter 's 
return  from  the  flooded  river,  or  California,  or  whence- 
soever  he  might  really  be  said  to  hail  from,  "are  a-goin' 
ter  see  this  here  theayter  piece  end  right  and  proper." 

"See  here,  you  don't  mean — "  began  John  Braddock, 
who  had  already  been  made  aware,  with  the  rest  of 
those  of  that  locality,  of  Saunders'  reputed  riches. 

When  Bob  Likkum  interrupted  him  with, 

"Yes,  but  I  do.  Cy,  here,  is  thuh  angel  uv  this  here 
actin '  show-troop  ;  th '  geenie, ' '  went  on  the  benevolent 
and  helpful  Bob,  drawing  on  his  lore  and  figurative 
speech  to  the  utter  confusion  of  any  connected  or  lucid 
arrangement  of  rhetoric,  "uv  this  here  present  lamp  ;  the 
fa-bled  Creesus,  which  is  a-goin'  tuh  pull  you  and  old 
Peter  Braddock  and  yer  family  'an'  all  'at  in  them 
is,'  "  concluded  the  glowing  and  rustic  philanthropist 
with  a  skilful  application  of  part  of  the  Fourth  Com- 
mandment, "through  this  here  i-dentical  bad  times  " 

John 's  eyes  filled  vrith  tears ;  but  it  was  true,  not- 
withstanding, and  no  insurmountfi  lile  difiiculty  ^\as  en- 
countered in  the  way  of  those  ample  and  benevolent 
plans,  hit  upon  by  Cy  and  Bob  for  John's  relief,  I.»eing. 
at  length,  adjusted  and  settled  to  the  satisfaction  of  all 
concerned. 

In  this  generous  and,  it  may  be  added,  unexpected 
manner,  John  Braddock 's  inconvenient  and  unpleasant 
debt  to  Brad  Simons  in  the  interest  of  Tom  Bolers, — 
together  with  the  other  perplexing  and  disheartening 
financial  difficulties  imposed  upon  De's  brother  and  her 
father,  too,  by  the  unusual  expenses  of  John's  troubles, 
—was  provided  for,  and  at  least  one  of  Brad's  tighten- 
ing and  tenacious  tentacles  released. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 


SMOKY   BILLINGS   OBJECTS — OBJECTION    NOT    OVERRULED. 

It  was  evening,  and  De  stood  alone  at  her  gate.  Oh, 
that  her  agreement  with  the  hateful  cattleman  was  for- 
ever canceled!  What  could  she  do?  She  had  promised 
Simons;  and  her  word  was  sacred. 

Of  course.  Brad,  as  was  usual  with  him  in  the  opera- 
tions of  his  crafty  and  treacherous  villainy,  had  been 
far  too  cunning,  in  any  way,  to  leave,  for  De's  present 
enlightenment  or  warning,  either  trace  of  himself  or  of 
his  ultimate  purpose,  in  the  action  with  which  he  had 
inspired  the  ruffianly  abduction  of  Uncle  Peter's  daugh- 
ter. "What  his  final  intention  was — whether  to  terrorize, 
even  spirit  the  girl  away  to  some  distant  locality,  or 
something  nameless  and  worse,  may  never  be  known. 
Simons,  in  the  wildness  of  his  disordered  passions,  had 
courted  certain  exposure,  destruction  and  ruin,  unless 
the  concluding  object  of  his  act  had  been  the  lasting 
concealment  of  his  deeds,  by  the  continued  restraint  of 
his  victim  within  the  precincts  of  the  caverns, — if,  in 
very  truth  and  evil  destiny,  it  had  not  been  meant  that 
De  should  never  come  forth  alive.  As  it  was,  his  baser 
designs,  whatever  they  were  to  be,  had  been  frustrated 
by  the  agency  and  death  of  the  freebooter  Hen;  who, 
when  shot  near  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  was  on  his  way  to 
Brad  Simons  with  a  token  taken  from  the  person  of  De 
Braddoek,  by  Black  Hank.  This  token  was  the  handker- 
chief found  by  Smoky  Billings. 

489 


490  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

Although  unconscious  of  Simons'  latest  villainy,  De, 
nevertheless,  only  too  well  knew  that  the  cattleman 
would  seek  her  at  the  earliest  opportunity;  when  he 
would  demand  compliance  with  her  part  of  their  con- 
tract or  understanding.  Glancing  down  the  road,  she 
was  liot  surprised  to  see  the  subject  of  her  present 
thoughts,  Brad  Simons  himself,  approaching,  mounted 
upon  his  familiar  bay  horse.  He  had  come  to  brave  it 
through. 

Much  weighing  of  what  William  White  had  said,  be- 
fore her  leaving  for  home  on  the  evening  after  John's 
trial,  had  occupied  her  constant  thoughts.  The  sense  of 
recent  danger  shared  likewise  filled  the  soul  of  the  im- 
pressionable and  true  hearted  girl  with  a  flood  of  ten- 
derness for  her  old  lover ;  and  her  long  established  faith 
in  all  that  he  had  ever  been  to  her  made  his  utterances 
to  sway  and  influence  the  decisions  of  her  mind  despite 
all  sense  of  real  or  fancied  obligation  to  Simons.  As 
Brad  came  on,  she  waited  to  hear  what  he  had  to  say; 
but  she,  also,  waited  in  a  prudently  reserved  frame  of 
mind  and  in  judgment  suspended.  And,  mth  it  all,  she 
must  keep  faith! 

Simons  was  full  of  sympathy.  He  had  just  heard  of 
the  outrage.  The  long  tolerated  band  of  thieves  and 
evildoers  that  had  disgraced  the  community  should  be 
hunted  down;  and,  in  this  last  dastardly  attempt  upon 
his  affianced  wife, — De  shuddered, — find  their  downfall. 

"Of  course,  De,"  leisurely  said  Brad  Simons  dis- 
mounting, tying  his  horse,  idly  breaking  in  with  com- 
ments upon  the  weather,  and  finally  advancing,  ^\dth 
easy  assurance,  into  the  yard  and  close  to  the  side  of  the 
already  shrinking  girl, — "of  course,  you  can  readily 
understand  how  hard  it  is  for  me  to  wait." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Simons,"  began  the  distressed  subject  of 
the  cattleman's  toils,  "I — " 


SMOKY  OBJECTS.  491 

' '  Surely,  you  do  not  mean  that  you  have  forgotten  so 
soon  the  escape  and  acquittal  of  your  brother?"  said 
Simons  persuasively. 

"But, — but  it  is  so  soon,"  cried  the  girl  vainly 
clutching  at  straws  as  they  sped  by,  and  remembering 
her  promise  to  William  White  to  hold  this  man  off  for  a 
time. 

"Is  that  all?"  and  Brad's  eyes  began  to  glow  with 
unholy  light.     "De, — "  he  put  forth  his  hand. 

' '  Don 't — don 't — don 't — touch — me, ' '  faltered  the 
other,  in  a  state  of  despair. 

"But  I  love  you,"  broke  forth  the  man, — "I  love 
you.  Do  you  know  what  it  is  to  love  as  I  love,  and,  then, 
be  trifled  with  ? "  he  here  leant  over  and  the  rush  of  his 
hot  breath  burned  her  cheek. 

De,  with  an  effort,  mastered  herself.  She  turned  on 
her  tormentor. 

"You  have  little  conception  of  love,  Mr.  Simons,  if 
you  call  selfish  disregard  of  the  feelings  of  others  such. 
You  speak  of  love — do  you  know, ' '  rapidly  continued  the 
girl,  "what  it  is  to  love;  to  forget  self;  to  live  for  an- 
other only  for  that  other 's  happiness ;  to  have  no  thought 
of  self  beyond  the  joy  it  gives  the  object  of  your  love. 
You  love ! ' '  exclaimed  the  distracted  and  spirited  girl ; 
"you  know  nothing  of  love." 

' '  This  to  me,  after — after  what  I  have  done  for  your 
brother?"  said  Simons  gazing  angrily  at  his  companion. 

It  did  seem  severe,  but  to  De  it  had  not  appeared 
more  than  White's  caution  and  warning  had  warranted. 

"I  cannot  talk  to  you,  to-night,"  was  De's  scarcely 
audible  reply. 

"You  can  talk  to  me,  to-night,  and  you  shall,"  said 
the  cattle  buyer  setting  his  teeth. 

"Now,  there,  I  never  see  the  likes  o'  such  a  man, — 
alius  a-pipin'  fur  these  here  poor,  humble  services — on 


492  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

yer  own  watch,  too,"  observed  a  slow,  monotonous  voice, 
with  every  indication  of  constitutional  and  incurable 
lack  of  interest  in  all  things.  "Mr.  Smoky  Billings, 
ee-squire, ' '  continued  the  voice  as  in  a  form  of  introduc- 
tion of  its  user  to  such  present  as  might  affect  so  de- 
sirable an  acquaintance,  "alius  at  yer  service,"  and  the 
foiler  of  Simons  suddenly  withdrew  a  cloth  from  the 
farm  lantern  which  he  carried,  in  the  first  shades  of  the 
night,  displaying  Smoky  Billings'  genial,  stubby-beard- 
ed countenance.  "And,  now,"  said  Smoky,  "we'll  jes' 
stop  this  here  bluff  o'  yourn,  an'  end  this  biz'ness,  'fi- 
nully  and  f'rever,'  as  the  feller  says." 

Brad  Simons  gazed  speechlessly  at  the  calm  and 
serene  face  of  the  man  before  him;  and  broke  out,  at 
length,  in  his  painful  and  suffocating  wrath  with  ex- 
treme difficulty. 

"You — you — low  hound,"  he  cried. 

"See  here,  I  ain't  yer  housekeeper,  'at  yer  kin  talk 
so  perlite  to  me,"  observed  the  easy-going  being  with 
the  lantern.  "Guv'nur,  don't  try  an'  keep  this  here 
game  up,  any  more.  Yer  can't  sail,  any  longer,  under 
ther  black  flag,  in  these  here  waters. — Yer  ain't  no  claim 
to  that  'ere  lady,  an'  you  knows  it." 

"You  lie!"  said  Brad  Simons. 

"Them  sentiments  o'  yourn  is  very  genteel  and  ele- 
gant," replied  the  undisturbed  Smoky,  "but  what  about 
this  here  dockyment?"  quietly  added  Billings,  quickly 
putting  into  the  possession  of  De  a  paper,  and  flashing 
the  lantern  light  full  upon  it. 

Simons  catching  a  glimpse  of  the  contents  of  the 
sheet  of  writing  which  De  held  made  a  dash  at  it. 

"Not  quite  so  rapid,"  coolly  interposed  Billings, 
"th'  lady  has  first  chance,"  and  Smoky  drew  Simons 
back  with  no  gentle  hand. 

De  gave  a  swift  glance  at  the  paper. 


SMOKY  OBJECTS.  493 

"Mr.  Simons,"  said  the  girl  iij  tones  of  burning  con- 
tempt, "this  is  a  written  agreement,  on  your  part,  to 
marry  your  housekeeper  INIona  Walker,"  and  De  turned 
her  blazing  eyes  upon  the  confounded  schemer. 

"You  have  been  meddling  with — it's  false,"  cried 
Simons  checking  himself  in  the  beginning  of  a  torrent  of 
frenzied  and  compromising  utterances  to  Smoky  Bill- 
ings. 

Simons  fiercely  turned  on  De. 

"You  are  trying  to  break  faith  with  me,"  stormed 
the  cattleman  to  the  girl, — "you,"  he  made  a  spring 
to  De's  side — "you  are  mine  and  I  will  have  you." 

"Not  this  evening,"  composedly  said  Smoky,  adroit- 
ly getting  a  leg  behind  Simons,  and,  with  an  accompany- 
ing shove  of  his  strong  arm,  sending  the  stock  raiser 
sprawling  upon  his  back;  where  he  lay,  in  a  vain  at- 
tempt to  rise,  with  his  feet  aimlessly  kicking  in  the  air, 
as  Uncle  Peter,  with  mother  in  the  rear,  appeared  at  the 
door  exclaiming, 

"Wliat's  the  matter?"  echoed  by  Esau  coming  from 
the  barnyard. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 


THE    HARVEST    MOON. 


Our  story  has  drawn  within  its  embrace  no  personage 
of  greater  or  more  meritorious  consequence,  than  that 
picturesque,  wandering,  haphazard  and  Gypsy-like 
character  who  has  become  fixed  in  the  attention  of  the 
reader  under  the  curious  appellation  of  Smoky  Billings. 

The  real  name  of  this  ex-sailor  and  knight  of  the 
road  has  never  been  known;  and  no  record  stands  to 
prove  that  Smoky  could  have  ever  earned  greater  laurels 
under  any  other  title  of  a  former  state  of  existence. 

As  anticipated  by  Simons,  Rachel  Bolers  had  suc- 
ceeded in  securing  possession  of  the  marriage  agreement. 
HoAV  she  had  contrived  to  do  so,  it  scarcely  matters 
for  the  purpose  of  this  story ;  though,  doubtless,  the  act 
was  accomplished  through  favor  of  Jump.  Actuated 
by  her  undying  hatred  of  De's  persecutor,  a  hatred  that 
had  the  abuse  of  her  own  offspring  as  a  foundation, 
Rachel  had  taken  the  agreement  to  Mona;  who,  in  the 
full  knowledge  now  of  Brad  Simons'  faithlessness,  at 
once  agreed  to  the  use  of  the  compromising  cAadence  for 
the  defeat  of  the  unworthy  intentions  of  the  debased 
cattleman.  Smokj''  Billings  had  secured  the  paper  on 
the  night  of  the  rescue  of  Cy  Saunders  from  the  flood. 

From  the  day  when,  a  tramp  straying  on  the  roads 
and  in  the  highways  and  byways  of  the  Hoosier  state,  the 
devoted  sailor  was  pounced  upon  by  a  mob  and  saved 
by  De  Braddock,  to  that  when,  after  the  most  unyielding, 

494 


THE  PIARVEST  MOON.  495 

ceaseless  and  tireless  efforts,  he  had  unearthed  the  means 
of  her  liberation  from  the  dread  toils  of  Brad  Simons, 
Smoky  was  De's  sworn  knight  and  faithful  defender. 
Smoky  Billings,  as  we  shall  continue  in  honor  and  fame 
to  call  him,  had  no  soul,  no  heart,  no  one  single  thought 
but  of  love  and  adoration  for  De  Braddock.  She  was  to 
him  a  goddess  set  afar  upon  her  own  bright  pedestal; 
and  one  for  whom  it  would,  at  any  time,  have  been  to 
Smoky  a  joy  to  freely,  gladly  die.  The  worship  of  his 
divinity  partook  of  no  earthly  character  of  the  flesh.  It 
was  as  if  a  spirit  of  rare  and  surpassing  beauty  and  ex- 
cellence had  descended  upon  his  vision  and,  from  the 
moment  of  first  sight,  had  enthralled  his  spirit,  and 
made  of  it  a  slave,  faithful,  adoring,  loving,  worshiping 
forever.  And  even  after  he  had  so  signally  aided  in  the 
crushing  defeat  of  Brad  Simons,  in  the  latter 's  designs 
upon  the  worthy  mariner's  divinity,  Smoky  Billings 
made  of  De  a  final  and  triumi^hant  issue,  in  that  com- 
munity, for  the  attainment  of  the  highest  aims  of  which 
he  was  capable  of  conceiving. 

And  now  flickering  uncertainly  in  the  light  of  com- 
ing events  the  shadows  weary  are  nearly  at  rest. 

The  parson  was  coming  down  the  road  one  evening. 
The  harvest  moon  silvered  the  parson's  high,  straight, 
black  beaver,  and  crept  around  under  the  narrow,  flat 
brim  of  the  same,  and  caught  his  face  at  the  edge  of  the 
shadow  cast  by  the  brim,  and  ran  down  his  nose  with 
loving  brightness,  and  silvered  his  smoothly  shaven  face 
and  chin  and,  then,  proceeded  to  envelope  him,  from 
head  to  foot,  in  a  mantle  of  silvern  sheen.  He  rode  on,  as 
a  parson  should ;  for,  he  was  going  to  make  one  of  a  num- 
ber of  invited  guests  to  gather  at  the  house  of  Peter 
Braddock.  He  clucked  to  his  sorrel,  and  said  "Geddup ;" 
and  the  sorrel,  paying  no  attention,  continued  in  the 
same  slow  and  unbroken  gait  that,  with  the  parson  as 


496  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

rider,  had  marked  the  ways  of  the  parson's  steed  since 
Woods  had  been  known  to  travel  those  roads.  And  with 
him  rode  Mona  Walker  close  to  his  side.  And  while  the 
minister  is  drawing  to  Martha  Braddock's  ^'evenin','' 
here  and  there  upon  the  various  highways,  appear  other 
figures  bound  for  the  same  genial  and  hospitable  occa- 
sion. Like  the  Wise  Men  of  old,  they  come,  in  their  sev- 
eral ways,  to  meet  at  the  Star  of  Martha.  We  see  the 
democrat  and  roan,  and  Bob  Likkum  and  Ann  Mariah, 
with  all  the  color  of  the  universal  laboratory  of  the  rose 
dyeing  that  fair  damsel's  cheek,  for  a  feeling  is,  at  last, 
hers  that  the  hour  has  come,  and  all  beneath  the  harvest 
moon!  And,  here,  too,  the  roads  show  approaching,  all 
converging  to  dear  and  kindly  Mother  Braddock's,  many 
other  wayfarers — the  shining  countenance  of  Job  Saun- 
ders, whom  his  father  has  set  up  on  a  farm  of  the  for- 
mer's own;  and  the  similarly  beaming  features  of  the 
Widow  Walmsey,  whose  amazing  corn-colored  silk,  flow- 
ered in  Indian  red,  scarcely  bedims  the  dazzling  glories 
of  Job's  highly  fashionable  splendors  of  attire, — the  bell 
crown  hat,  at  last,  rests  in  revered  and  honorable  retire- 
ment in  the  garret;  and  here  is  Cy — Cy  Saunders,  him- 
self, the  returned — the  lucky  gold  miner  and  John's 
friend — he  is  just  drawing  up  to  the  gate,  where  Uncle 
Peter  stands  and  shouts,  ' '  Hello ! ' '  till  you  could  hear 
him  at  Chicago;  and  Hiram  Braddock  is  on  hand,  quite 
well  again;  John  and  his  wife  and  little  Nanny, — who 
has  a  new  doll,  the  gift  of  "Aunt  De," — have  come  up 
for  a  sight  of  "the  old  folks  at  home;"  and  Rachel  Bo- 
lers,  too !  and  here  is  the  figure  of  Author  White,  coming 
up  the  road,  and  following  closely  behind  is  another — his 
faithful  friend  and  ardent  admirer,  Smoky  Billings.  And 
the  harvest  moon  winks  jovially  (for  has  not  that  har- 
vest moon  reserved  its  most  effective  and  artful  snares 
and  arrangements  for  later  hours,  and  knows  its  own 


THE  HARVEST  iMOON.  497 

specially  appointed  time ! )  ;  and,  at  last,  a  very  fat  farm- 
boy  enters  Mother  Braddock's  parlor,  making  an  effort 
to  effect  a  way  for  one  other  who  keeps  dutifully  in  line 
in  the  fat  farmboy's  rear — Esau  has  a  captive  to  his 
bow  and  spear — the  throng  of  invited  guests  open  right 
and  left,  and  down  the  lane  of  wondering  faces  moves, 
with  dignified  and  easy  tread,  the  fat  farmboy,  with — 
no? — yes! — well, — Avith  a  fat  farmgirl  coquetting  and 
blushing  and  making  coy  attempts  at  that  ease  and  grace 
only  befitting  a  hitherto  unknown  fat  farmgirl  out  for 
the  first  time  in  the  knowledge  of  man  or  woman  wdth 
her  young  man;  for  none  had  ever  seen  the  farmboy's 
partner  before.  And  so  was  Esau's  unusual  state  of 
excited  and  blissful  exaltation,  manifested  at  irregular 
periods  of  late,  accounted  for. 

And  the  singing  and  dancing,  and  the  apples  and 
the  cider,  and  cake  of  De's  own  special  brand!  In 
story-telling,  Cy  Saunders  made  Bob  Likkum  a  close 
second — though  in  possibly  a  more  thrilling  and  excit- 
ing vein ;  and  told  stories  of  Indians,  and  lonely  prairies, 
and  grizzly  bears,  and  fights  with  wild  animals  and 
human  ones  scarcely  less  wild, — and  carried  on  until  the 
men  admired,  and  made  no  attempt  to  conceal  it,  and 
the  women  gave  vent  to  innumerable  "Ohs!"  and 
"Ahs!"  and  stifled  little  screams  and  cries  of  affected 
and  terrified  surprise,  and  Esau,  sitting  by  the  fat  farm- 
girl, was  seen  to  place  a  secure  and  protecting  arm 
around  a  farreaching  waist  trembling  and  quaking  in 
feminine  anxiety  and  distress  like  some  vast  bowl  of 
jelly  in  its  highly  wrought  reception  of  these  awesome 
tales. 

"Gentlemen  and  ladies,"  said  Robert  Likkum,  rising 
in  his  most  formal  manner  and  affording  his  audience 
a  last  opportunity,  in  the  present  narrative,  of  listening 
to  one  of  his  very  finest  and  most  celebrated  deliveries, 


498  THE  CAVERNS  OP  DAWN. 

"a-mong  the  most  promynent  and  important  of  sich 
things  as  have  occurred,  we  are  happy,  in  the  langwidge 
of  the  noospaper  editorial  writer,  to  a-nounce  the  re- 
cent and  bril-li-unt-ly  successful  ree-ception,"  Bob 
flourished  grandly  upon  these  last  words,  "of  the  splen- 
did story  writinV'  with  a  sense  of  making  up  for  once 
unfavorably  criticising  the  same,  "of  our  disting'ished 
and  renown-ed,"  again  preening  the  very  finest  of  his 
oratorical  plumage,  "naybor,  friend  and  brother,"  this 
latter  word  appealing  to  Robert's  fancy  as  containing 
the  essence  of  something  particularly  fraternal,  "Mr. 
William  White,  now  pree-sent,"  and  Bob  Avaved  a  grace- 
ful recognition  of  William's  "pree-sence"  in  the  midst 
of  the  company,  "whose  noble  contribooshun  to  the 
literatoor  of  this  here  great  and  glorious  country  is  now 
a-bein'  read  with  a-vidity  an*  eagerness  wherever  Eng- 
lish," said  Bob,  who  had  prepared  his  remarks,  like  most 
"impromptu"  speakers,  beforehand,  "is  read  er  ap- 
preciated." 

' '  The  back  counties, "  it  is  within  the  province  of  the 
present  historian  to  state,  "had  been  heard  from,"  and 
William  White  was  a  famous  novelist. 

"I  feel,"  continued  Bob,  looking  with  benignant 
approval  upon  De,  who  had  colored  with  pleasure  under 
the  praise  so  worthily,  as  she  thought,  bestowed  upon 
her  old  lover, — "I  feel,"  repeated  Bob  impressively, 
"that  this  'ere  kump'ny  'u'd  not  take  it  kind  ef  we  did 
not  try  to  ad-e-kwately  express  our  fittin'  sense  of  grat- 
i-fi-eation  in  the  possession  of  so  emynent  a  friend  and 
awthur ;  an ',  ef  my  friendly  hearers  'uU  purmit  this  here 
o-raytor  (which  meant  orator)  to  illustrate  these  here 
ree-marks  uv  ple'zure  an'  congratulashuns,  I  will  tell 
you  how  the  man  weth  the  load  of  cobs  done  it."  Lik- 
kum,  who  could  not  have  finished  a  public  address,  with- 
out a  story  to  illustrate  it,  paused,  with  much  dignity, 


THE  HARVEST  MOON.  499 

and,  in  the  manner  of  a  professional  speaker,  impressive- 
ly sipped  a  glass  of  water,  wliich  had  been  setting  before 
him,  on  a  table,  while  all  were  subdued  with  a  sense  of 
interest  becoming  the  pending  one  of  Bob's  famous 
anecdotes.  "This  here  man,"  resumed  Bob,  after  a 
moment  of  pleased  silence  had  prepared  all  to  hear  what 
was  coming,  "w'at  I  speak  uv  weth  th'  load  uv  cobs,  he 
wuz  a  gen'l'man,"  said  Bob,  with  an  apologetic  air  as- 
sumed in  a  manner  which  detracted  none  from  the  merits 
of  his  tale,  "who  cussed,  and  was  a  purfane  man,  and 
swore  drefful.  Well,  this  here  man  was  noted  in  the 
nayborhood  fur  this  pecooliarity  of  his'n,  and  all  the 
unregen'rate  kentry,  roun',  wuz  'customed  to  gather, 
when  opportoonity  offered,  to  list'n  to  this  gen'l'man 
swear.  This  man,  onetime,  he  had  a  load  uv  cobs,  he 
did,  an'  he  -woiz  a-'proaching  a  steep  hill  with  his  load 
uv  cobs,  and  the  boys,  a-rememberin'  th'  old  feller's 
cussin'  pow'rs,  they  played  a  trick  on  the  gen'l'man  to 
hear  him  at  his  best.  When  the  gen'l'man,  he  got  to 
the  foot  of  this  here  steep  hill,  he  paused  to  rest  his 
bosses,  and  the  boys,  they,  unbeknownst  to  the  gen  '1  'man, 
they  slipped  up,  they  did,  and  they  drawed  the  eend 
board  uv  ther  gen '1 'man's  waggin  frum  its  fast'nin's, 
and  w'en  the  gen'l'man,  he  driv'  up  ther  hill,  them 
cobs  they  strowed  the  kentryside  fur  miles,  aroun'." 
Bob  paused,  smiled  pleasantly  upon  his  open-mouthed 
auditors,  and  went  on.  "The  gen'l'man,  he  driv'  on  up 
the  hill,  onconshus,  an'  w'en  he  got  to  the  top  of  the 
hill,  he  nach'ly  stopped  ter  draw  his  breath;  an'  them 
boys  had  kum  up  through  the  bresh  on  each  side  uv  the 
hill,  an'  onperceived,  wuz  arrived  at  the  top.  W'en  the 
gen'l'man  weth  the  cobs,  he  paused  at  the  top  of  the  hill, 
and  removed  his  hat,  and  wiped  his  fur 'head  weth  his 
ban'anner  han 'chief,  fur  the  day  wuz  hot, — the  gen'l'- 
man, he  chanst  ter  look  about  him,  an'  he  ketched  sight 


500  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

uv  one  of  them  mischief  makin'  boys  in  ther  bresh,  at 
the  top  uv  the  hill,  who  waz  a  squintin'  thro'  frum  his 
hidin'  place  ter  see  whut  'u'd  happen;  and  a  suspicion 
stole  thro'  the  mind  uv  the  gen '1 'man,  an'  he  looked 
aroun'  fur  ter  see  w'at  had  bekum  of  his  cobs,  and  he 
seen  'em  gracefully  a-ornamentin'  the  hillside,  weth  a 
clean,  spick-span,  empty  waggin  bed  behin'  him.  It 
was  mos '  awful ;  but  the  gen  '1  'man  wuz  ez  silent  in  his 
reception  uv  this  'ere  cat-as-trofy  as  the  solumn  toomb, 
fur  a  min'it',  an',  then,  he  calls  out  to  the  fellers,  'at 
he  know'd  wuz  k'lected  ter  hear  him  throw  off  prize 
cattle  purfanity,  'No  use,  boys,  I  can't  do  the  subjeck 
justice!'  An',"  wound  up  the  orator,  with  a  style  of 
rolling  if  a  trifle  dubious  ending,  "my  friend,  Willium, 
we  has  met  here,  together,  to-night,  to  celebrate  the  in- 
credible success  of  a  book  writer,  which  you  are;  but," 
added  Bob,  in  happy  application  of  the  story  of  the 
"gen'l'man"  and  the  cobs,  "no  use,  we  'can't  do  the 
subjeck  justice,"  and  Bob  Likkum  sat  down  amid  great 
applause;  and,  "Hear,  hear,"  from  Cy,  who  brought  a 
breath  of  the  parliamentary  outside  world  with  him; 
and  much  amused  laughing,  and,  "Good,  good,  Robert," 
from  Parson  Woods,  capably  sustained  by  a  bland 
"Very  well,"  out  of  the  mouth  of  jolly  Father  0 'Gor- 
man, whom  De  had  thoughtfully  included  in  the  festivi- 
ties. 

William  White  responded  fittingly,  in  the  quaint  and 
engaging  style  following : 

"A  fairy  tale,"  said  he,  and  proceeded:  "Once 
upon  a  time,  there  was  a  poor  peasant.  Where  he  lived, 
it  is  not  needful  to  say,  except  that,  as  I  have  said,  he 
was  a  peasant;  and,  as  peasants  belonged,  in  the  olden 
times,  to  the  countries  across  the  seas,  he  must  have  lived 
near  some  enchanted  forest  in  the  old  world.  This  peas- 
ant, you  must  know,"  and  little  Nanny  Braddock  was 


THE  HARVEST  ]\IOON.  501 

paying  very  close  attention,  with  the  others,  "was  called 
Jabez  Grosholm.  Jabez  had  a  wife;  who,  in  her  turn, 
being  a  loving  and  devoted  helpmate,  was  about  to  pre- 
sent her  goodman  with  an  heir.  Now,  Jabez  was  of  a 
wandering,  adventurous  disposition;  and,  one  day,  was 
led  to  leave  home  by  a  great  desire  to  amass  riches." 
This  seemed  a  hit  at  Cy  Saunders,  but  he  didn't  mind  it, 
— no,  indeed !  ' '  So,  while  he  was  gone, ' '  continued  Will- 
iam, "a  tiny  son  was  born.  Near  to  where  lived  the 
Goodwife  Grosholm,  likewise  abode  Garth  Marktwine. 
The  latter  was  a  thrifty,  saving  soul ;  staid  at  home,  and, 
together  with  his  own  wife,  could  show  against  his 
neighbor's  destitute  hut,  a  comfortable  well  kept  place; 
where,  as  to  Jabez'  peasant  mate,  had  come  the  stork, — 
though  a  cunning  mite  of  a  girl  was  left  at  their  door. 
Now,  here,  happened  the  wonderful  part, — really,  al- 
most too  strange  to  be  true,  although  it  is  sworn  to  by 
honest  peasants  and  their  neighbors  throughout  the 
country ;  and,  to  this  day,  they  will  show  you  many  mar- 
velous things  preserved  in  proof,  including  a  fairy  foot- 
print at  the  doorway,  for,  you  see,  the  fairies,  after- 
ward, came  to  see  them — but  we  are  getting  ahead  of  our 
story. 

"As  the  first  faint  cry  of  the  wee  wayfarers  was 
heard,  there  appeared  suddenly  at  the  hut  of  Marta 
Grosholm  the  most  astonishing  and  wonderful  bit  of  a 
creature  you  most  ever  laid  your  eyes  on.  Any  of  you 
would  have  given  anything  to  see  it.  It  was  a  little  man, 
not  much  taller  than  an  egg  spoon,  and  he  walked  with 
so  much  dignity  and  even  fierceness, — for  he  seemed 
indignant  about  something, — that,  really,  you  felt  like 
you  had  to  get  out  of  his  way.  He  strode  right  into  the 
room — there  was  only  one,  and  a  cuddy  hole  for  a  bed — 
without  so  much  as  knocking,  stepping  through  a  rent 
at  the  bottom  of  the  door,  where  the  cat  was  accustomed 


502  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

to  come  in  and  go  out.  Notwithstanding  all  this  lack  of 
ceremony,  he  had  left  a  coach  and  six  outside,  of  such 
size  that  it  would  have  filled  all  of  a  large  gourd — one  of 
those  bigger  ones,  you  know,  that  's  larger  than  the 
smaller  ones.  Yes.  And  more  than  that,"  and,  here, 
little  Nanny  came  in  for  the  narrator's  special  attention, 
while  the  interest  of  the  "grown-ups"  was  curious  to 
see, — "and,  more  than  that,"  continued  the  entertainer, 
"it  is  just  clear  to  me,  that  this  was  no  ordinary  per- 
sonage. Who  do  you  think  it  was?  I'll  tell  you:  It 
was  King  Scraumtheroons,  the  ruler  over  all  the  Fairies, 
and  the  giver  of  all  blessings  when  babies  are  born. 
Would  you  believe  it?  Fact.  Well,  Mrs.  Grosholm  was 
nearly  mortified  to  death;  for,  you  remember,  she  just 
naturally  didn't  have  a  thing  in  the  house  to  eat;  and 
the  King  of  the  Fairies  just  gave  a  bounce  and  was  on 
the  table  and  seated  on  the  bottom  of  a  bright  brass 
kettle,  for  all  the  world  like  he  had  come  to  stay. 

"He  rapped  the  kettle  smartly  with  something  that, 
I  guess,  was  a  scepter;  and,  anyway,  it  tinkled  on  the 
side  of  the  kettle  like  a  tiny,  tinkling  bell, 

"  'Madam,'  said  his  majesty,  with  royal  condescen- 
sion, while  Marta  Grosholm  looked  most  scared  to  death, 
*do  you  know  who  I  am?' 

"Marta  was  just  as  ashamed  as  she  could  be  because 
she  didn't  know;  and  she  told  his  majesty  so,  and  begged 
he  wouldn't  think  hardly  of  her. 

"He,  thereupon,  very  considerately  told  her  that  he 
would  not. 

"  'But  where  is  your  husband?'  he  asked,  this  time 
sharply,  and  rapping  the  kettle,  once  more. 

"The  poor  woman  had  to  confess  he  had  gone  away 
to  hunt  a  fortune. 

"This  desertion  of  poor  Marta  must  have  been  what 


THE  HARVEST  MOON.  503 

had  made  the  King  of  the  Fairies  so  fierce,  when  he  first 
came  into  the  room,  for  he  said  instantly, 

"  'Aha!  that  is  it, — and  you  are  here  all  alone?  I 
thought  so.' 

"  'Have  you  anything  to  eat?'  questioned  the  royal 
visitor, — I  think,  don't  you  know,  more  to  find  out 
whether  the  little  baby's  mother  would  be  able  to  keep 
the  two — the  little  baby  and  herself — alive,  than  any- 
thing else ; — but,  not  to  hurt  her  feelings,  you  know,  he 
went  on  very  quickly,  'for  we  have  traveled  far  and 
fasted. ' 

"Mrs.  Grosholm  was  appalled  at  the  thought;  super- 
naturals,  too, — would  they  not  eat  more  than  any  hu- 
man being  could  give  them ;  and  she  had,  as  it  was,  only 
a  poor  handful  of  meal !  However,  she  must  not  let  the 
guest  beneath  her  own  humble  roof  go  hungry,  without 
an  effort  to  supply  his  wants.  The  King  of  the  Im- 
mortals watched  Marta  closely,  while  these  things  were 
going  through  her  mind;  and,  believe  me,  having  the 
power,  of  course,  to  read  people's  thoughts,  he  was 
touched;  so,  you  see,  he  had  not  come  entirely  to  touch 
her.    You  do  not  believe  this,  but  it's  all  true ! 

"Marta  rushed,  they  always  do,  you  know,  when 
they're  in  a  hurry,  in  stories  and  out  of  them, — but  she 
did — she  rushed  over  to  her  neighbor's,  the  Marktwines, 
— for  they  had  plenty,  you  see, — to  borrow  a  frying  pan 
and  a  piece  of  bacon.  And  what  do  you  suppose  she 
found  there  ?  You  never  would  guess.  She  found  Queen 
Scraumtheroons,  sitting  in  with  the  mother  and  little 
girl-baby  Marktwine.  The  little  boy  had  fallen  to  the 
king's  share,  and  the  little  girl  had  fallen  to  the  queen's. 
Well,"  went  on  William,  having  the  whole  night  before 
him,  ' '  do  you  know  what  they  did  ?  I  '11  tell  you.  They 
whisked  everything  right  over  to  the  less  prosperous 
dwelling  of  Marta;  for  the  elfin  enchanters  are  always 


504  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

kind  and  considerate  of  the  poor  and  least  favored — 
baby  Marktwine,  mother  and  everytliing,  frying  pan  and 
bacon, — it  all  went  to  Marta's. 

"The  queen  got  on  the  table,  and  the  king  made  a 
place  for  her  on  the  bottom  of  the  brass  kettle ;  and  then 
it  became  clear  what  he  and  the  beautiful  queen  were 
tSiere  for. 

"They  were  there,  of  course,  to  preside  over  the 
destinies  of  the  coming  generations;  and  after  they  had 
eaten  the  bacon,  which  they  did,  not  forgetting  some  for 
their  coachman  and  hosts,  and  relished  it,  they  conferred 
together  and  his  majesty  spoke. 

"  'And  when,'  he  said  in  conclusion,  tinkling  his 
scepter  upon  the  brass  kettle,  'these,  our  youthful 
charges,  are  old  enough  as  children,  once  a  year  tliey 
are  to  come  to  our  domain  of  Fairyland,  at  midnight, 
when  we  hold  our  court,  in  the  forest, '  and,  their  present 
mission  ended,  away  went  King  and  Queen  Scraumthe- 
roons  much  to  the  wonderment  of  all,  and  a  purse  of 
gold,  of  course,  was  found  under  the  kettle  where  they 
had  been  sitting. 

"So,  Never-neverland  became  the  future  of  these 
honest  folk. 

"And  the  children,  by  and  by,  went  to  visit  the 
Fairies.  When  night  would  come,  at  the  end  of  each 
year,  the  parents  fixed  them  up  with  bows  of  blue  ribbon, 
and  neat  white  frocks,  and  giving  them  directions  down 
by  the  brook  and  the  big  tree,  which  the  little  people  of 
the  wood  had  given  to  the  older  people,  they  saw,  with 
perfect  faith  and  confidence,  the  boy  and  girl  set  out 
alone,  for  the  king  and  queen  of  the  Fairies  had  said  so 
should  it  be. 

"And  in  the  midnight  in  the  wood,  where  the  moon, 
as  is  the  way  with  Fairies,  made  Fairy  noon,  the  two 
children,  hand  in  hand,  emerged  upon  a  glade,  where 


THE  PIARVEST  MOON.  505 

bluebells  grew  and  daffodils  and  buttercups.  And  lilies 
of  the  valley  hung  their  wee  bells  down,  and  a  tiny,  tiny 
clapper  made  a  silvery  chime,  by  the  little  hand  of  the 
sprite  that  rang  the  note;  while  winsome,  lissom  elves 
gaily  sported  on  the  surface  of  a  merry,  dancing  cas- 
cade of  gleaming,  moonlit  waters  flashing  and  spark- 
ling over  lichen-covered  rocks,  and  falling,  splashing 
musically,  upon  a  bed  of  greenest,  softest  mosses. 

"So,  hand  in  hand,  the  two  children,  with  eyes  like 
stars  and  wide  and  large,  came,  in  timid,  hesitating  won- 
der, into  this  region  of  enchantment ;  when,  from  her 
throne  of  frosted  calla  lily  cup,  came  the  sweet  and 
gentle  queen  of  all  these  blithe  and  dainty  little  men 
and  women.  The  brave  king  sat  stately,  next  the  dear 
queen's  calla  lily,  upon  a  mushroom  draped  to  the 
ground,  as  it  was,  with  cloth  of  gold  sewn  thick  with 
brilliant  gems.  The  lovely  consort  of  the  royal  ruler,  in 
this  informal,  loving  way,  brought,  as  a  mother  would, 
the  fluttering  souls  before  the  throne  of  grace,  and  the 
great  king  said : 

"  'Go  with  them,  good  my  queen,  that  they  may 
see.' 

"And  so  they  w^ent  and  saw  the  glories  of  his  king- 
dom. And  when  they  had  seen  all  the  rest,  they  paused 
before  a  group  of  Fairy  children,  who  played  games; 
trundling  hoops  made  of  moonbeams;  playing  ball  with 
buds  and  blossoms,  and  all  the  while  filling  the  glade  till 
it  rang  with  glad  and  joyous  frolic  and  sounds  of  laugh- 
ter, song  and  mirth. 

' '  '  They  fight  and  stratch, '  lisped  the  little  girl  to  the 
Fairy  queen,  'where  we  tum  from,  w'en  they  p'ay. ' 

"And  the  queen,  saying  this  was  wrong,  gave  them  a 
book,  and  that  book  remains,  to  this  day,  to  guide  the 
race  of  man  and  woman  and  of  children. 

"Ajid  the  Fairies  gathered  in  a  happy  band  and 


506  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

flew  away,  bearing  these  mortal  children  to  their  earthly 
dwelling  place;  and  when  the  peasants'  offspring,  in 
their  cots,  at  home,  wakened  in  the  morning,  they  told 
their  parents  and  the  others  all  this  tale  of  marvels. 

"The  book,  in  silver  letters  on  leaf  of  gold,  had  be- 
come the  thought  of  all  the  ages;  wise  men  from  every- 
where making  pilgrimage  to  the  locality  where  such  wis- 
dom may  be  found. 

"When  the  boy's  father  returned,  having  found 
riches,  he  was  strangely  perplexed  as  to  what  to  do  with 
his  hoard  of  wealth.  His  son,  growing  taller  day  by  day 
and  casting  longing  and  favored  eyes  upon  the  neigh- 
bor's beautiful  daughter,  showed  to  the  sire  The  Book. 

"In  it  the  rich  man  read: 

"  'Give  unto  others,  that  ye  may,  yourself,  receive; 
the  pleasures  you  preserve  unto  your  kind  are  those  of 
life  eternal.'  " 

By  some  with  silent  appreciation ;  by  others  with  en- 
thusiastic applause,  and  by  all  with  pleasure  and  in- 
terest, was  William  White's  simple  effort  received,  illus- 
trating, also,  as  it  did  in  its  closing,  the  true  office  of 
his  own  profession — literature. 

And  all  the  while  the  harvest  moon  had  not  its  own 
knowledge  and  the  knowledge  of  all  the  other  moons  in 
the  world  for  nothing,  and  could  afford  to  wait;  for  it 
was,  indeed,  a  wise  old  moon  and  knew  its  own  victims. 
And  its  knowing  chuckle  was  as  slyly  satisfied  as  ever  in 
its  long,  ancient  and  enterprising  career,  when  first  one 
and  then  another  shy,  awkward  and  self  conscious  viewer 
of  its  scandalous  games  and  snares  and  pitfalls  came,  for 
a  spell  of  courting,  creeping  and  stealing  and  slipping 
forth  from  smiling  Mother  Braddock's  door,  that  night. 
It  was,  in  truth,  a  shameful  harvest  moon,  adding  to  its 
silvern  complexion  a  dangerous  golden  hue  as  the  night 
drew  on  apace;  and  was  forcing  the  old,  time  honored 


THE  HARVEST  MOON.  507 

business  in  the  most  reckless  manner.  It  nearly  fell 
down  from  its  saucy  perch,  when  Esau  and  the  fat  farm- 
girl  came  forth;  but  soon  smoothed  away  its  merriment, 
— which,  after  all,  it  has  always  been  observed,  is  but  the 
healthful  sauce  to  the  meat, — and  an  atmosphere  of  con- 
cession w^as  allowed  to  arms  stealing  about  w^aists;  and 
hands  squeezing  other  hands,  and — the  harvest  moon  did 
very  well,  and  placed  a  discreet  hand  before  its  honest, 
old  face — lips  stealing  closer  and  closer  to  other  lips ! 
0  ' '  that  old  sweetheart  of  mine ! ' '  Riley  knew. 

"De,  hear  the  river!"  said  William  White,  in  tones 
of  subdued  appreciation.  They  had  walked  upon  the 
road  and  w^ere  returning.  Nothing  was  in  sight  to  break 
the  still  and  perfect  harmony  of  the  hour.  The  plash 
of  the  river,  subsiding  after  the  recent  freshet,  was  dis- 
tinctly audible.  Anon,  the  cry  of  a  night  bird  broke,  in 
note  of  deep  and  minor  cadence,  upon  the  air.  The 
vague  shadoAvy  outline  of  distant  wood  accentuated 
landscape  and  moonlight.  The  lovers,  for  could  ever 
any  different  state  exist  between  them,  moved  slowly 
down  the  moonlit  road. 

"Job  has  come  into  his  inheritance,"  said  De,  with 
shy  self  consciousness. 

William  laughed  softly. 

"And  Esau,  poor  Esau!"  ejaculated  the  girl  gently, 
moved  to  sensations  of  mirth,  but  too  tender  hearted  to 
let  her  sense  of  humor,  stirred  by  a  recollection  of  the 
fat  boy's  recent  sentimental  and  romantic  courtship, 
have  vent. 

' '  The  discovery, ' '  said  White,  a  little  less  considerate 
than  his  sw^eetheart,  ' '  of  the  nineteenth  century. ' ' 

Silence — the  night  bird's  call — a  song,  by  Cy,  of  the 
wild- west  border,  floating  out  in  the  night! 

"And,  De,  I — have  I — have  I  come  into  mine?" 


508  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

"Your — your  what,  William?"  replied  the  other  in 
a  low  voice. 

"My  'inheritance.'  " 

"Your  inheritance,  William?"  murmured  the  girl 
under  the  spell  now  surely  beginning  to  creep  over  two 
souls, — "your  inheritance  was  your  genius  and  its 
achievements — you  have  come  into  that." 

"But  the  rest  of  it,  De, — oh,  all  the  rest?" 

The  harvest  moon — golden,  now,  full  golden,  oh! 
miracle — hung  in  generous  and  tender  sympathy  still 
and  grave  above,  shedding  its  flood  of  lovely,  trans- 
lucent light  over  the  fluttering  spirits  below;  which  even 
now  instinctively  rose  to  those  divine  rays  of  solemn 
glory,  clinging  hopefully,  trustfully  to  their  strong  and 
enduring  support. 

"The  rest,  William?" 

"Yes — the  rest — you,"  said  the  man. 

* '  I  was  always  yours. ' ' 

That  harvest  moon  could  not  cease  without  one  more 
piece  of  scandalous  behavior;  and  so  Esau  and  the  fat 
girl  were  distinctly  laughed  at,  by  the  outrageous  old 
rogue,  when  the  fat  farmboy,  after  much  exertion, 
triumphantly  planted  a  kiss  upon  the  lips  of  the  fat 
maiden,  and  ran,  in  lubberly  haste,  from  the  side  of  his 
victim  to  escape  the  infliction  of  instant  and  condign 
punishment  at  her  hands. 

Bob  has  closed  the  game,  after  many  years,  with  Ann 
Mariah,  and  is  coming  in  from  the  wood  afar  with  his 
prize ;  and  Job  has  secured  the  widow. 

And  now,  before  the  night  is  over,  all  are  once  more 
gathered  within  dear  old  Uncle  Peter's  cheery  parlor, 
with  Mother  Braddock  beaming  at  the  old  gentleman's 
side ;  and  we  look  in  at  the  open  door  and  take  one  last 
fond  farewell,  ere,  forever,  the  scene  shall  fade  and  van- 
ish in  the  loving  haze  and  maze  of  years. 


CHAPTER   XLIX. 


GOODBY. 


The  native  force  of  William  White's  thought,  in  a 
district  of  undeveloped  ideas ;  the  prestige  of  honorable 
character, — war  service  and  success;  the  unexpected 
popularity  resulting  from  the  restoration  of  its  stolen 
wealth  to  the  community,  and,  on  White's  part,  a  desire 
to  test  some  of  his  views  in  an  effort  to  improve  the  con- 
dition of  the  people,  obtained  for  the  celebrated  writer 
political  favor.  The  opposition  now  wanted  Jason 
Jump's  acute  cunning;  and  Brad  Simons  was  rapidly 
losing  caste.  The  election  came  off;  and  Benjamin  Grigs- 
comb  was  among  the  first  to  gracefully  congratulate 
William  White  upon  a  triumphant  victory. 

To  Washington,  therefore,  were  De  and  William,  now 
married,  come;  the  beautiful  woman  inspiring  and  aid- 
ing every  elevated  and  generous  thought  which  her  hus- 
band might  entertain  for  the  advancement  and  develop- 
ment of  humanity. 

And  to  the  side  of  the  ideal  couple  come  the  humble 
friends  of  home. 

First,  Bob  Likkum  stands  forth,  and  the  blushing — 
blushing!  of  course,  she's  blushing — why  not? — she's  a 
bride — oh,  the  blushing  Ann  Mariah.  Bob  and  Ann  are 
on  their  "weddin'  tower,"  for  Bob  says  so,  and  Bob 
knows. 

And  the  Honorable  William  Wliite  recognizes  the 
true  state  of  the  case. 

' '  Bob, —  why,   Bob, —  and  Ann  —  Ann  Mariah  1   oh, 

509 


510  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

Ann,  it's  happy  ye  air,"  exclaims  William  laughingly 
and  justified,  on  his  ovm  part,  by  a  specimen  of  dazzling 
and  wondrous  womanhood  presiding  over  his  perfect 
Washington  establishment,  where  the  happy  couple  from 
home  is  being  heartily  welcomed, — "so  you  and  Bob 
finally  did  it !  Well,  well,  Bob,  you  see  it 's  everywhere, ' ' 
and  William,  continuing  to  smile  happily,  waves  his  one 
strongly  knit  hand  in  the  direction  of  De,  who  stands 
softly  glowing  at  her  husband's  side,  her  eyes  shining, 
her  chestnut  hair  drawn,  in  wondrous  waves  over  her 
ears,  and  a  bunch  of  marvelous  red  roses  in  the  bosom 
of  her  orange-colored  silk. 

Ann  feels  it  incumbent  to  blush,  again,  and  looks  so 
demure  and  sweet,  in  her  own  turn,  in  her  old  fashioned, 
corn-colored,  straw  poke  bonnet  and  white  ribbons  and 
pearl  gray  dress,  that  Bob  needs  no  approval  of  any 
other  than  his  own  feelings  to  justify  the  act  which  has 
brought  him  and  Ann  Mariah  to  Washington. 

"Yes,  Bob,"  says  William,  as  Robert  and  Ann  Ma- 
riah take  their  leave,  "it  shall  be  done — Job  Saunders 
shall  be  postmaster,"  and  Ann  Mariah  is  happier,  if 
possible,  than  ever. 

Uncle  Peter  and  I\Iartha  both  lived  until  they  saw 
Wliite  and  De  in  the  fullness  of  time  in  Washington, 
"managin',"  as  Uncle  Peter  put  it,  "the  affairs  of  con- 
gurss. "  Mother  Braddock  and  Peter  passed  a  happy 
and  peaceful  time  together,  after  that.  In  fact,  Peter 
did  not  leave  Martha,  for  many  comfortable  years;  but, 
a  decade  after  the  old  stock  had  reached  the  three-score- 
years-and-ten  of  earthly  mortal  limit,  it  happened  to 
present  itself  naturally  to  the  old  man  at  this  advanced 
and  good  old  age,  that  he  had  ' '  a  call  to  die, "  as  he  said, 
and,  obeying  the  "Lord's  will,"  he  died.  Mother  Brad- 
dock  followed,  shortly  after. 

Parson  Woods  visited  Washington  in  company  with 


GOODBY.  511 

a  lady,  as  his  -wife,  who  has  figured  effectively  in  this 
story.  IMona  Walker,  the  former  housekeeper  of  Brad 
Simons,  and  who  had  preserved,  in  all  and  perfect  truth, 
a  stainless  character  in  the  cattleman's  service,  discover- 
ing the  intolerable  and  innate  villainy  of  Simons '  nature, 
yielded  to  the  suit  of  Parson  Woods  and  became  the  wife 
of  the  worthy  pastor.  The  parson  and  the  attractive 
lady  whose  affections  he  had  won  were  cordially  enter- 
tained by  William  and  De ;  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Woods  re- 
turned to  Indiana  with  a  lively  sense  of  the  greatness 
and  importance  of  their  national  representatives.  The 
parson  and  his  true  and  loving  helpmate  continued  long 
to  confer  blessings  upon  their  community ;  and  have  left 
a  memory  for  unselfish  service  among  the  people  of  their 
flock,  that  fills,  with  the  odor  of  true  sanctity,  the  region 
of  their  former  lives. 

The  earnest  and  worthy  Father  Patrick  0 'Gorman, 
at  the  little  rectory,  went  on  with  the  work  of  saving 
souls  according  to  his  light;  and  passed  away  in  an  at- 
mosphere of  pious  and  happy  remembrance. 

Job,  in  recognition  of  old  Cy,  his  father,  and  his  own 
reformed   merit,    was    eventually    made    postmaster    at 

T ,  through  William  White;  and  Job's  wife,  once  the 

Widow  Walmsey,  continued  to  be  the  harmless  envy  and 
the  pattern  of  the  social  circles  of  the  rural  neighbor- 
hood. Job  made  a  good  public  officer ;  and  his  father,  old 
Cy  Saunders,  was  heard  to  say,  "That  Job  Sa'nders 
should  have  a  good  slice  of  his  (Cy's)  money."  The  re- 
turned western  miner  did  not  forget  gentle,  faithful 
little  Ann  Mariah;  but,  like  a  practical,  shrewd  old  fel- 
low that  he  was,  drew  his  own  conclusions  touching  the 
fidelity  and  worth  of  patient  Ann's  devotion  to  the  old 
home,  during  Cy's  absence  fortune  hunting;  and,  on 
hearing  the  neighbors  discourse  eloquently  upon  the 
theme  of  Ann  Mariah 's  desert,  made  an  allowance  for 


512  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

Ann  in  his  ■vdll,  which  would  leave  her  comfortable  for 
all  time ;  and  Ann,  being  so  informed  by  her  thoughtful 
parent,  must,  of  course,  think  only  of  the  good  fortune 
this  would,  some  day,  through  her,  bring  to  Bob,  and 
flew  to  tell  that  humorist  of  the  latest  circumstance.  And 
Bob  Likkum,  may  his  memory  ever  grow  greener!  and 
sweet  Ann  Mariah  long  flourished;  and  old  Cy  had 
chubby  grandchildren  until  his  days  were  full  of  them 
and  contented  blessedness;  when  he,  too,  was  gathered 
to  the  joys  and  the  delights  of  his  own  fathers. 

Well,  well,  now,  how  about  Esau  and  the  fat  girl? 
Ah,  there  is  a  subject  of  delight,  as  we  regretfully  near 
the  end!  White  and  De  were  enabled,  before  William's 
retirement  from  public  life,  to  contemplate  the  budding 
bliss  in  matrimonial  days  of  the  fat  farmboy  and  his 
plump  consort ;  and  were  among  the  very  first  to  present 
marriage  gifts  to  the  blooming  young  couple.  The  ap- 
pearance of  a  fat  and  rosy  infant,  the  result  of  this  last 
named  union,  was  hailed  with  great  gladness  and  much 
feasting  and  joy  by  all  friends,  neighbors  and  well  wish- 
ers of  the  hearty  parents. 

John  and  Nance  Braddock,  with  little  Nanny,  throve ; 
and  John,  at  last,  grew  to  be  one  of  the  most  prosperous 
and  successful  business  men  of  his  community,  and  paid 
old  Cj'  to  the  last  dollar. 

Rachel  Bolers  never  wanted;  and  William  and  De 
were  forever  and  always  her  friends. 

But  who  electioneered  so  effectively  for  William 
White,  when  in  the  heat  of  his  political  canvass;  who 
was  it  kept  the  ball  rolling,  on  the  score  of  a  man  who 
had  a  wife  like  De ;  who  was  it  roused  the  neighborhood 
and  neighborhoods  in  such  a  way  that  it  is  recalled  to 
this  day  in  all  that  district, — and  did  it  with  such  tire- 
less and  untold  enthusiasm, — to  love  and  respect  for  a 
woman  with  courage  that  would  stand  for  justiqe  with 


GOODBY.  513 

life — for  a  woman  whose  influence  could  be  counted 
upon  with  a  husband  representing  the  deep  and  sacred 
principles  of  fireside  and  family,  in  the  national  halls 
of  congress — a  woman  whose  life  was  the  life  of  White's 
every  act,  and  who  made  it,  finally,  so  patent  that  Will- 
iam White  wasn't  to  be  the  representative,  at  all,  but 
De  was  to  be,  that  they  really  had  to  elect  William  White 
in  order  to  send  De  to  congress?  Who  was  it?  Why, 
Smoky  Billings. 

White  purchased  a  good  farm  in  Indiana ;  and  Smoky 
took  charge  of  it,  and  lived  always  in  comfort.  He 
never  entertained  other  opinion  of  great  men,  than  that 
drawn  from  his  own  ideal,  William  White;  and  con- 
tinued to  idolize  De  and  a  little  boy  that  came  to  her  and 
William. 

The  nest  of  outlaws  was  broken  up ;  and  Brad  Si- 
mons' dealings  with  them  being  finally  discovered  he  was 
forced  to  flee  the  country,  and  all  trace  of  him  became 
lost;  until  the  news  came,  one  spring,  that  he  had  been 
killed,  somewhere  in  the  west,  while  cheating  at  cards. 

But  the  phantoms  and  the  shadows  were  not  yet 
laid. 

One  day,  William  White,  upon  a  visit  home  from 
Washington,  had  taken  De  and,  lovers  ever,  had  driven 
out  to  the  old  mill,  where  the  congressman  and  Smoky 
Billings  had  once  passed  through  a  season  of  dangerous 
and  apparently  unproductive  observation  of  the  now 
disbanded  and  scattered  criminals.  De  and  William  had 
been  blessed  with  a  child,  a  son,  a  bright  and  handsome 
lad  now  seven  years  of  age — their  one  imperishable  star 
of  hope  and  love,  and  who,  on  this  occasion,  made  their 
cherished  and  precious  companion.  It  was  a  beautiful 
evening  in  the  early  fall.  The  leaves  were  changing 
their  hues,  and  the  mild  and  gentle  air  blew  softly  upon 


514  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

the  cheek,  still  damasked  as  of  old,  which,  with  its  happy 
owner,  nestled  closely  to  her  husband's  side.  A  strange 
and  unaccountable  impulse  had  prompted  the  famous 
man,  author  and  publicist,  to  revisit  this  scene  of  former 
days.  The  thin,  silver  crescent  of  a  young  new  moon 
hung  in  the  quiet  evening  sky,  as  they  neared  the  wild, 
picturesque  spot  where  stood  the  dismantled,  tumble- 
down ruins — reminder  of  his  old  adventure.  The  dark 
outlines  of  the  ruined  and  deserted  mill,  amongst  the 
rocks  and  crags  and  trees  of  former  days,  blent  in  soft, 
dusky  picturings  against  the  silent  heavens.  The  dry 
ledge  of  rock  over  which  the  miniature  falls  made  its 
laughing,  sparkling  way,  when  the  neighboring  stream 
was  full,  and  recalled  by  William  White  in  its  situation 
near  the  mill,  was  now  covered  with  a  dancing,  rolling, 
glancing  sheet  of  water  from  a  plentifully  supplied 
channel  above.  De, — who  was  as  ardent  in  her  love  of 
the  poetic  and  the  beautiful  as  was  her  lover-husband 
himself, — and  the  boy  were  in  raptures  at  the  singular 
wild  and  desolate  beauty  of  the  scene. 

Something  told  White  that  a  discovery  was  at  hand; 
but  restrained  him  from  speaking  of  what  underlay  the 
real  object  of  their  trip.  He  had  deemed  it  useless  be- 
fore, at  any  period  of  mutual  trials  in  the  past,  to  enter, 
with  his  wife,  upon  those  speculations  which  had  pos- 
sessed his  own  mind  in  this  one  of  his  and  Smoky's  af- 
fairs, and  which  had,  likewise,  absorbed  his  thought  in 
connection,  as  well,  with  things  he  had  learned  since 
his  own  service  had  begun  at  the  nation's  capital. 

They  entered  the  interesting  ruins.  The  walls  of  the 
building,  now  in  many  places  fallen  away,  gave  entrance 
to  the  fading  evening  light.  William  White  had  provided 
a  lantern  which,  lighted,  enabled  them  to  make  their  way 
over  the  rough,  uneven  flooring — here  and  there  lacking 
boarding.    White  had  told  De  of  the  robbers'  haunt;  of 


GOODBY.  515 

his  own  witness  of  their  meeting,  that  night,  in  the 
mill,  when  he  and  Billings  were  bent  on  probing  tlie  lives 
of  the  outlaws,  but  had,  as  perceived,  been  silent  upon 
certain  surmises  which  had  succeeded  in  gradually  creep- 
ing into  his  own  understanding.  Rats  scurried  before 
them,  as  they  proceeded  over  the  uncertain  floor  of  the 
deserted  and  abandoned  building;  and  a  forlornness  im- 
possible to  describe  possessed  and  haunted  the  place. 

A  theory  of  search  and  investigation  led  White  to 
where  the  rotting  and  disused  old  millwheel  still  clung, 
in  fragmentary  reminder  of  its  days  of  long  past  use- 
fulness, and  visible  from  within  through  the  crumbling 
wall.  As  he  and  the  companions  of  his  strange  visit 
neared  the  rear  of  the  disordered  premises  a  broken 
lantern  —  readily  recognized  by  the  curious  visitor  as, 
in  all  probability,  the  one  kicked  over  and  shattered  by 
the  endangered  offender  before  the  outlaw  court — was 
seen  lying  near,  the  glass  crushed  and  scattered  about 
and  the  wires,  enclosing  the  lamp,  bent  and  twisted;  a 
condition  of  things  testifying  graphically  to  the  deadly 
and  determined  energy  with  which  the  menaced  victim 
had  asserted  his  efforts  for  freedom  and  escape  from  the 
ruthless  judgment  of  his  former  direful  and  threatening 
custodians. 

"William  White  turned  to  the  mother  and  the  child. 

* '  See ! ' '  said  he  swinging  his  own  lantern  at  the 
spot;  ''here  is  w^here  the  man  stood  under  sentence  of 
death;  hereabouts,  where  those  passing  judgment  upon 
him  were,"  and  he  examined  the  rough  boards  constitut- 
ing the  rude  flooring  of  the  place  to  discover,  if  possible, 
the  footprints,  which  the  thick  layer  of  dust  might  ren- 
der natural  of  presence,  of  the  vanished  outlaws. 
"Look,"  exclaimed  the  intent  novelist,  "there  are  their 
footprints, ' '   and   there   they   were, —  undisturbed ;    the 


516  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

place  unvisited,  in  all  this  time, — sheltered  by  the  huge 
millstone. 

De  and  the  boy  Edward — the  latter  naturally  filled 
with  the  wild  spirit  of  youthful  adventure — surveyed 
these  evidences  of  the  past,  with  thrilling  and  absorbed 
interest. 

And  thus  do  things  pass  away  like  a  tale  that  is  told." 

Time,  the  great  effacer  of  all  things  material  and  im- 
material, was  bedimming  this  page  of  the  great  writer's 
earlier  experiences.  Four  successive  terms,  served  in 
congress  by  White,  had  intervened  between  the  present 
and  the  outlawry  and  the  criminal  reprisal  of  the  time 
of  Jason  Jump.  They  had  been  hardworking  terms.  The 
representative  of  the  people  had  seen  some  of  the  seeds 
of  good  faith,  which  he  had  patiently  and  loyally  sown, 
blossom  and  bear  fruit.  And,  from  his  investigations 
and  research  at  the  seat  of  national  affairs,  it  had  form- 
ed, in  the  gradual  process  of  his  trained  literary  mind, 
as  a  sure  and  logical  intuition,  that  the  paper  he  had 
seen  the  robber  perusing,  on  that  memorable  night  eight 
years  before,  must  surely  have  had  some  value  as  a  rec- 
ord not  only  of  the  life  of  him  who  read  it,  but  of  a 
phase  of  unfair  human  society.  The  criminal  and  out- 
lawed reader  he  had  now  finally  judged  to  be  one  whose 
career,  at  Washington,  had  been  singularly  blameless, 
until,  driven  by  the  abuse  of  representative  government, 
he  had  followed  in  the  wake  of  the  long  and  melancholy 
procession  of  rebels  against  temporal  injustice  and  be- 
trayal which,  victorious  or  otherwise,  stretches  back 
across  the  dim,  endless  and  forgotten  pathway  of  the 
history  and  of  the  ages  of  the  human  race. 

If  White  and  Billings  had  judged  the  mysterious  doc- 
ument from  which,  on  the  night  in  the  mill,  they  had 
caught  apparent  expressions  delivered  by  the  outlawed 


GOODBY.  517 

leader,  connecting  suspicion  with  the  possible  murderer 
of  Ezekiel  Smithin, —  if  they  had,  then,  supposed  the 
paper,  in  this  way,  to  have  been  capable  of  supplying 
evidence  important  to  John  Braddock's  acquittal.  White 
himself  had  now  been  long  since  convinced  of  the  cor- 
rectness of  the  jury's  real  finding  —  which,  it  should  be 
remembered,  had,  in  no  sense,  implicated  the  outlaws. 
Therefore,  Jason  Jump — whom  he,  at  last,  felt  assured 
was  one  and  the  same  with  Black  Hank,  could,  in  the 
present  investigator's  conclusions,  have  had  no  complici- 
ty in  Smithin 's  death.  But  what,  in  that  case  was  the 
further  meaning  of  this  unexplained  paper?  And  in  the 
additional  endeavor  to  satisfy  this  query  he  had  come 
out  to  the  old  mill,  hoping  to  find  the  robber's  record. 

He  found  it — found  it  carefully  secreted  beneath  the 
enduring  rock  of  the  place, — hidden  away  in  a  crevice 
under  the  old  millstone.  It  was  the  diary  of  Jason 
Jump.  It  was  the  requiem  sung  over  a  broken  heart  and 
a  shattered  life.  No  memory  of  the  past  breathed  pleas- 
ant hope  for  the  future.  It  was  the  tragedy  of  human 
things.     It  wailed  aloud  in  universal  and  empty  space. 

"You  framers  of  codes,"  it  read;  "you  makers  of 
laws;  but,  beyond  all,  you  judges  and  dissemblers  in 
the  pretended  dispensation  of  justice,  from  bench,  from 
legislative  hall,  and  from  the  critical  housetop  of  public 
and  false  profession,  look  you  out!  for  the  hour  cometh 
and  this  handwriting  is  on  the  wall :  '  The  people  cry 
in  the  wilderness,  and  their  lamentation  is  bitter,  and 
their  lamentation  is  death!'  " 

In  another  place,  there  was  an  impassioned  reference 
to  "the  rebellion  of  George  "Washington  against  his 
English  home-rule  government." 

' '  George  Washington, ' '  it  said,  ' '  was  a  rebel  against 
the  insufferable  and  insupportable  injustice  under  which, 
at  the  hands  of  his  country,  he  groaned.    Had  he  failed, 


518  THE  CAVERNS  OF  DAWN. 

he  would  have  been  gibbeted  and  his  memory  been  made 
odious  for  all  time.  He  succeeded  against  the  law.  He 
goes  into  the  march  of  the  ages,  leading  as  a  god  and 
embalmed,  in  the  reverend  and  sacred  purity  of  the  his- 
tory of  a  country  he  had  so  heroically  and  materially 
assisted  in  making,  as  a  representative,  in  the  imper- 
fection of  the  earth,  of  the  ideal  of  perfection  and  per- 
fection's honor." 

Over  one  portion  White  lingered. 

' '  The  Smithin  case ! "  it  said ;  * '  what  can  I  be  charged 
with  in  that  ?  I  did  not  kill  Zeke  Smithin.  Conscience  ? 
stuff!" 

But,  still,  in  this  strange,  mysterious  character,  con- 
science had  never  wholly  died.  There  were  blind,  almost 
incoherent  appeals  to  standards  and  authorities  of  hu- 
man conduct,  in  an  apparent  and  hopeless  attempt  to 
ease  the  saddened  casuist's  bruised  and  bleeding  soul. 
After  seemingly  fruitless  efforts  to  satisfy  the  course  of 
action  into  which  the  injustice  of  events  had  driven  him, 
— Jason  Jump,  outlawed  victim  of  his  times  and  the 
unworthy  rule  of  his  land,  began  his  conclusion  in  the 
words  remembered  by  the  peruser  of  this  unsparing 
posthumous  national  and  universal  arraignment : 

"And  shall  I  add  the  Smithin  case?  Why  not?  His 
murder  is  as  much  upon  my  soul  as  if  I,  indeed,  had  com- 
mitted it.  I  missed  the  time  and  place  of  his  expected 
passing  or  his  blood,  too,  would  have  been  upon  my 
hands  and  upon  the  hands  of  those  who  drove  me  to  it ! " 

They  read  the  story  of  the  life  of  the  outlaw  chief- 
tain; and  the  child  was  told  never  to  leave  the  path  of 
honor,  love,  duty  and  unselfishness. 

Sobered  and  saddened,  De  and  William  and  Edward 
left  the  old  mill,  with  its  mournful  history,  and  saw  the 
crescent  of  silver,  in  the  silent  heavens,  symbolizing  their 
own  peaceful  loves  and  eternal,  enduring  faith. 


GOODBY.  519 

' '  Our  honeymoon — still  our  honeymoon,  sweetheart, ' ' 
said  the  young  wife,  shyly, 

"White,  as  he  drove  back,  reverted  to  the  night  in  the 
flooded  cave,  when  they  had  watched  the  dead  outlaw; 
who,  in  his  lifetime,  had  written  the  sheets  that  they  had 
just  read.  As,  in  the  time  of  that  stress  of  danger  and 
threatened  destruction,  De  had  whispered  to  her  lover, 
so  she  now  whispered : 
"  'William?'  " 
And  so  did  William  answer, 

'Best  beloved?'  " 
"  'Did  the  man  do  his  duty?'  " 
'The  dead  man?'  " 
'The  dead  man.'  " 
'God  help  him!'  " 
And  so  they  laid  away,  forever,  Jason  Jump ;  and  the 
shadows  ceased  from  troubling,  and  the  weary  was  at 
rest. 

'  The  mao-ic  reel  has  run  its  length." 

"While  out  of  this  that  death  shall  ever  leave  be- 
hind, spring  flowers  of  immortality  and  promise ; ' '  and, 
in  the  vision  of  the  future,  William  White  could  see  all 
changed;  and  the  defeated  outlaw  rebel's  victory  was 
in  a  recreated  land  and  laws  and  justice ;  when,  from  out 
the  darkened  caverns  of  the  brooding  night's  long,  toil- 
ing past  had  come  the  glorious  dawn  of  love,  duty  and 
unselfishness. 


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SFP  14191 

FEB   2   19 

JViAti  151918 


SEP  13  IC!  3 


WAH  2  II,;, 


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